


A Guardian's Tale: There And Back Again

by Faraumaiar



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, I'm Bad At Summaries, My First Fanfic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags Are Hard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-04-18 20:58:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 30,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14221683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faraumaiar/pseuds/Faraumaiar
Summary: Between the worlds of Light and Dark there’s a thin veil known as the Shadows. Servants of the Light work here in their never ending battle against the Dark. They call themselves the Guardians, and this is the story of one of them: Rosalyn Fernsby, Guardian of the Shire.





	1. A Story From Long Ago

This is a story that happened long ago, when magic still flowed freely and nightmares were hiding just outside of the borders of the civilised world. It needed protection, and we were there to comply. As ages went on, we dwindled in number and power, until there were none left.

But I’m getting ahead of myself, I’ve yet to tell you when it all began.

It began as you could expect, in the land of the Shire, with a strange, rare feeling creeping down my spine.

It was something I had felt before, although it was quite some time ago. When the Hobbits rose to fight off invading Orcs, I suppose.

This chill on my spine and buzz between my ears told me something decisive for the future of Hobbits would happen, and soon. Where, though, was a whole different question.

As with most new things in the Shire, whatever or whomever that would cause this would enter through one of four roads, one in each Farthing. The most likely options were either the road to Bree (in Eastfarthing) or to the Blue Mountains (in Northfarthing).

As I was in Eastfarthing by the best of my knowledge, I went searching the East Road.

  
Once there, the sensation telling me something was going to happen became stronger, the chill spreading from my spine to my hands and the hairs in my neck standing up.

I was going the right way, but I hadn’t found the cause yet.

The feeling reached a peak and then vanished suddenly, which had to mean I could see what or who was going to cause this happening. I’d just have to pay attention to anything out of the ordinary.

It was quickly found in the form of a meddling Wizard. Once, he’d often visit his friends here, but he hadn’t been here in some years.

When I shadowed the Wizard and the feeling didn’t return, I knew I was right. I thought he’d be heading to Tuckborough, getting one of the Tookish tweens to go on some insane journey.

I was quite surprised that, when he came to the crossroads that would take him there, he hesitated for a bit and then decidedly turned the other way - to Hobbiton.

He wandered a bit here, earning some strange looks from faunts and adults alike. It was as if he was searching for someone but didn’t quite know yet who he was searching.

The Wizard stopped at a smail with a Hobbit in its front garden, enjoying the morning with a pipe and soaking up the sun.

While they conversed, I tried to listen, but I couldn’t concentrate. I knew this Hobbit’s face, I remembered it from somewhere, and if he was worth remembering, this could be a very interesting adventure indeed.

Then it hit me - this particular Hobbit was a Took in all but name. He had hit me once while he’d been practicing throwing rocks. Which was an achievement in itself, since I wasn’t visible to most inhabitants of Arda, with a very few exceptions. This Hobbit wasn’t one of them, but yet he’d been able to it me with only a sound to go on as a faunt.

As I remembered more, I also remembered that following the Fell Winter, I never caught him practicing anymore.

Having remembered that, I was able to concentrate on the conversation, but it seemed I missed the bulk of it, because there was only a short bit of chit-chat about fireworks, before the Wizard said, out of the blue, “Well, that’s decided. It’ll be good for you, and most amusing for me. I shall inform the others.”

Which resulted in the Hobbit spluttering excuses and retreating into the safety of his home.

Not sure what to do I decided to just watch the Hobbit. I didn’t know when these ‘others’ would come, but the Wizard had made up his mind, and I knew enough about him to know that you’d better not go against him if he had. It’d be a waste of energy and time.

The Wizard didn’t troubled at all, that the Hobbit he had chosen slammed the door shut. He walked up to it, in fact, and with one end of his staff traced a rune on the round door.

After that, he briefly looked inside through one of the round windows and stalked off.

I was torn between staying here and making sure I wouldn’t miss the ‘others’ the Wizard would take with him the next time he’d come, and going away to pack supplies.

I decided on the last. It could be an hour or a day before the Wizard came back, and I wanted to be prepared for the journey he had arranged should they decide to leave in a hurry - even if that seemed highly unlikely for a Hobbit living in Hobbiton.

I went to the closest of my many stashes around the Shire and stuffed my trusted pack with as much of everything I could need as I could, cleaning the stash out.

I returned to the smail with the marked door and waited. To kill time I began carving a new pipe.


	2. A Welcome Companion

The day slowly turned to evening, and still no one had come. Because of the dark I had to quit carving. I began to scrutinize everyone come past, trying to see which one of them would open the gardens gate and knock on the door or ring the bell.

The evening lasted long, as only a few Hobbits took this path heading to the pub. It was no wonder that those coming from the pub all were drunk.

That was, until a tall, burly figure came and didn’t seem to be drunk. As they came closer, I saw it was a Dwarf, and I did a little prayer, asking the Valar that he’d ring the bell.

My prayer was heard, as the Dwarf looked up at the door and opened the gate. I was delighted - whatever journey the Wizard had planned, I wouldn’t have to go alone.

Full of anticipation I waited. If these were Dwarrow of the Blue Mountains, I’d have a dear friend along. The Dwarrow kept coming, each introducing himself to a more and more exasperated host. 

That was, until a group all fell into the smail when the door was opened.

And still Hannar, my friend, hadn’t shown up. It could’ve meant two things: either he was dead or the troop of Dwarrow wasn’t complete yet.

I kept hoping for the last, although, if the troop wasn’t complete yet, they were very merry about it. From where I sat, I could hear a cheerful and mocking tune at one point.

At long last, when the evening had fully darkened into night, another pair of Dwarrow approached.

To my delight, one of them was the Dwarf I’d been waiting for.

Hannar jumped over the garden fence when he spotted me and sat next to me. We remained in silence until the Dwarf he’d accompanied had entered the smail.

“So, how are you doing?” I asked Hannar as soon as I knew we wouldn’t be heard.

“Well enough. And you?” He answered, rummaging through his pack.

“Peachy as ever. It’s been very quiet lately.” I replied, getting my pipe and pipeweed from my own pack. It had been a while since I’d seen Hannar, and this could be one of the last times for quite some time that I’d be able to smoke with him in peace - or to smoke at all. Whatever the Dwarrow and the Wizard had planned, it had the blessing of the Valar, since we were to be involved.

“It’s always quiet here, Rosa. Don’t know how you live with it.” Hannar said, tapping the bowl of his own pipe a few times on the bench before inspecting it to see if it was clean enough to smoke. It was, and when I offered my tobacco pouch, he gingerly took a pinch and smelled it.

“Oh, that’s good stuff. You sure?” He asked. Hannar was right, it was good stuff - Longbottom Leaf to be exact. His days wandering the wilds had never left him: he would share his last piece of cram with you if he thought you were going hungry, but the sharing of luxuries such as pipeweed still made him uncomfortable.

I nodded. “Of course, I wouldn’t offer it otherwise.” In my opinion a smoke was only as good as the company you had while smoking, but good pipeweed was always appreciated.  
We smoked and talked a bit, but we didn’t bring up whatever the Dwarrow had planned. Hannar had quickly learned to appreciate that Hobbits - even one as un-Hobbitish as me - didn’t do business over dinner or smoking.

The night began to cool considerably before we were done, and I was once again grateful for the bear fur lining my cloak.

“Today, the King had a meeting with envoys from all seven kingdoms.” Hannar began.

“All seven? Must be some plans he has.” I said, unpacking a blanket to lay across my legs.

“He does. King Thorin wants to take back Erebor from the dragon Smaug.” He continued. “The meeting was a bust. There was no support for the plan. The King had hoped on an army having his back when we get there. He has decided to go through with it anyway. Twelve Dwarves had already pledged that they would accompany the King. Tharkûn -the Wizard- came yesterday to tell us he’d found a burglar for the company. A Hobbit by the name of Bilbo Baggins.”

I huffed. A Baggins? I didn’t get a lot of gossip in my day-to-day life, but reputations are built over lifetimes, or sometimes even generations, and the Bagginses had the reputation of being entirely predictable, entirely reliable, and entirely un-adventurous.

Hannar looked at me with a sideways glance. “Please, do continue.” I said.

“The King wasn’t really happy with the choice of an outsider, but Tharkûn persuaded him to first meet with the burglar before condemning him. Which is why we’re here. Tharkûn said the burglar would host them tonight.”

I started to laugh. This Hobbit a Baggins? Surely it couldn’t be? I knew he wasn’t a Took by name, not living in Tuckborough and all, but a Baggins would never have behaved himself like that.

Well, if this Hobbit had caused me to get the chills earlier today, he’d probably not be as much of a Baggins as his name led to believe. I’d give him the benefit of the doubt, for now.

Hannar and I kept talking deep into the night, until Hannar had said everything he knew about the plan and I understood every aspect of what he had told perfectly.

Before we went to sleep, I casted a spell that would keep our conversations unheard to any non-Guardian. Chatter was always a part of the sound of Hobbiton, but on the road our voices -especially mine- would be easily recognised as not one of the group’s. We Guardians had to stay in the background, going unnoticed as much as we could. In times of danger we could interfere, but we should never be noticed by the people we protect.


	3. Let's Get This Show On The Road

As always, I got woken up by the dawn. Hannar and I had fallen asleep on the bench, sharing a blanket. Hannar was still fast asleep, and I carefully got out from under the blanket, trying not to wake him. I stretched, sucking the morning air into my lungs.

As I looked up to the sky, I saw it would be another beautiful day, with very little clouds and little to no wind for the time being.

Soon enough, the Dwarrow started emerging from the smail. I was a little confused when the Hobbit - Bilbo Baggins, didn’t follow them. They were leaving for Erebor today, as early as they could, Hannar had told me.

Maybe master Baggins was finishing some documents to give to a relative to take care of his absence while the Dwarrow made the very last preparations, and they would meet up?

In any case, Hannar belonged with this group of Dwarrow, so I woke him.

“Good morning, master Dwarf.” I sang, pulling the blanket off him and beginning to fold it up.

“It’s too early to be good, madam Hobbit.” Hannar groaned, blinking warily against the sunlight before getting up too. “It seems we are missing our burglar.” He stated.

“He’ll want to make sure someone knows he’s going off somewhere. It’s quite frowned upon to just disappear like this.” I paused. “Besides, if he doesn’t, nobody would know how long his journey might take. They’ll wait a year and a day before they’ll assume he’s dead.”

The Dwarrow were now gathered on the road, and Hannar went to join them. “See you on the road!” He called to me, waving and smiling.

“See you soon!” I replied, sitting down on the bench again. Now, I just had to wait.

And wait I did. Soon enough I got bored just sitting around, and I began to walk through the garden. It was well-maintained and full with bushes that would be brimming with fruits this summer, vegetables that were cautiously peeking above the ground and flowers that were on the verge of blooming. 

Sadly, there wasn’t much I could pick for my breakfast. Master Bilbo wouldn’t be enjoying his harvest this year, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy whatever was harvestable. This meant my breakfast was mostly comprised of rhubarb and strawberries. After pulling another few stalks of rhubarb that I would save for later, I returned to the front garden.

The sun had fully risen and still no sign of master Baggins. No sign of life at all, in fact, from inside the smail. I looked in through the windows and saw him, still asleep.

Master Baggins and the Dwarrow hadn’t agreed on meeting up, I realised. They’d have woken him. Maybe they hadn’t agreed on anything, not even that master Baggins would join their quest.

All he needed was a nudge out the door, I thought. Every Hobbit had a sense for adventure, even those who claimed, or had the reputation, not to have one. In most it laid dormant, waiting for the chance to roar to life. One could always try to ignore it, and often it was. But I felt it in myself today, the longing to see more of the world and learn what was outside of the Shire. And no stubborn Baggins was going to take my chance away.

I went into the smail, which the Dwarrow had left unlocked. Once inside, I immediately felt the weight on my chest - it was a spacious, well-it corridor, but once the door closed, a closed off space just as well. I took some deep breaths. No closed off space could contain me forever. No fear would ever be the master of me. The weight lifted ever so slightly, I shut the door and walked inside. 

The silence was almost tangible, thick and heavy. Soon enough, I found master Baggins, still fast asleep. A candle was next to his bedside, and an idea formed in my head as to how I would wake him.

I snapped my fingers to form sparks, which lit the candle. It was a trick I had perfected long ago, but the fact that it worked still made me smile.

I filled my lungs with air and blew out the candle, blowing the smoke in master Bilbo’s direction. He promptly woke up, looking around confused.

Still fully clothed from the night before, he stood up and began to sneak through his home as if he were a robber, checking every room he encountered (of course he took breakfast when he found the pantry empty of Dwarrow and almost empty on food). When he had made sure there were no Dwarrow hiding in his smail, he first did a little dance of joy, before walking around looking lost. He came to a stop at a table with a long piece of paper on it. He looked at it, then through the window, and back at the paper.

Whatever it was, it had something to do with the Dwarrow, I presumed. I then had to dive out of the way, master Bilbo scrambling for something - a quill and ink - and scribbling on the paper. He then began to murmur to himself while darting through his home, packing a rucksack with food and clothes.

Before long he threw open the door, paused briefly to take his walking stick, and almost sprinted out, holding the paper, and not even bothering closing the door. I followed him, taking the half second it took to close the door and gate. I ran after him, vaulting fences and dive-rolling past unsuspecting Hobbits that were in my way.

We didn’t slow down until we were well out of Hobbiton, not even when a concerned Hobbit asked master Baggins where he was going. “I’m going on an adventure!” Was his answer, and I couldn’t help but holler out of pure joy; we are going on an adventure! After all these years I’d see what was outside these borders. My heartbeat was in my ears like a drum, along with my feet pounding on the ground, joining into a rhythm that only spurred me on to go faster. My legs ached in a most pleasant way at the prospect. With a warm breeze against my skin it felt as if I was flying.

It was only when I realised that I couldn’t hear master Baggins’s footfalls anymore that I slowed down. My chest was heaving, deep breaths going in and out and I felt so alive. I stopped and saw that I had left him far behind.

Two options presented themselves: wait for master Baggins or run ahead and join the Dwarrow. On one hand, I was here to protect master Baggins. On the other hand, we weren’t even out of the Shire, what could possibly happen? The Shire was safe, thanks to my hard work and that of the Bounders. I chose to run ahead, but not as fast as I had. The day was young and we would have many more miles to go before we stopped for the night.

I caught up with the group as they stopped for lunch, leaving master Bilbo far behind, little more than a speck in the distance if you knew where to look. 

“So, you decided to show up without your charge? That’ll be fun when you try to cross the borders of the Shire. Where are those anyway?” Hannar remarked in lieu of a greeting.

“He’s coming! He’s just not as fast as me.” I replied. Master Baggins would be my ‘charge’, I’d have to look out for him, protect him as much as possible without him noticing. “And the borders aren’t as clean cut as you Dwarrow’s. He’ll catch up before it gets too bad.” I had experimented often how far I could go before it -a nameless force that’d make it harder and harder to go further, like pulling a slingshot- would force me to turn back. I had found that the Shire was much larger than you’d expect. I could walk towards Bree until I was quite some way into the Brandy Hills. The absolute turning point was where the Hills flattened out into the Bree Fields. And as we had just left the Brandywine River behind, I would be fine for some time.

“I really don’t understand you sometimes, you know? You’re supposed to be better at… this, and yet all you do is bend the rules.” Hannar sighed.

“What do you mean, bending rules?” I said innocently, smiling sweetly.

“You know exactly what I mean! Those staches you keep like some over-eager squirrel are going to get you noticed some day.” He said with a stern expression. I knew better though, this was a conversation we’d had more times than I bother to count, and we’d probably have many more times. It was all in good fun.

“Well, if someone were to find them, they wouldn’t know that it belonged to a Guardian, would they? It could be anyone’s.” I said, poking at Hannar’s side.

I was surprised when he caught my hand in his and his stern expression didn’t change. “Rosalyn, stop it. Can’t you be serious for once?” Hannar said, his golden brown eyes boring into mine. He never used my full name anymore. He had once, when we didn’t know each other as well yet. For a while he even insisted on calling me madam Rosalyn. 

“I can, I just thought, well, we aren’t out of the Shire yet…” I swallowed. I hadn’t meant to upset him. “Look, I always work hard to keep the Shire safe for everyone living in it, so when you come visit with the merchants, I can let loose a bit. I see now that that is different. I’ll be serious from now on.”

“You better be, you recidivist knaver.” Hannar snapped at me. He finally let go of my hand and his stare. Unexpectedly he began chuckling. “I’m a bit nervous, can you tell?”

“Yes. You always use nonsense words when you are.” I said, still a bit wary. “No worries, we’ll be fine. We’ll get these Dwarrow to Erebor.” Although I had no idea how far away this Erebor was, and I doubted it would be smooth travels, we’d power through. How hard could it be?


	4. Seventeen Is A Company

The Dwarrow packed up and went on their way again. I looked behind me often, and saw our pace was slower than master Bilbo’s. Hannar and I could follow at a nice-paced jog, so master Baggins closing in on us while we were moving was at least a bit impressive.

Not too much later, I could hear him calling: “Wait! Wait!”. Soon enough the group had come to a stop, allowing master Baggins to catch up.

When he did, he presented the paper to the oldest of the Dwarrow. “I signed it.” He said, out of breath.

The Dwarf briefly inspected the document with a magnifying glass. “Everything appears to be in order. Welcome, master Baggins, to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield.” He then announced, both to the Company and master Bilbo.

“Get him a pony.” The Dwarf I assumed to be the King, and leader of this company, ordered.

Immediately, master Baggins began to stammer. “Nonononono, that-that’s won’t be necessary.” He objected. “I’m sure I can keep up, on foot. I-I-I’ve done my fair share of walking holidays, you know?” He continued, walking in a slow pace. “Even got as far as Frogmorton once…” He was unceremoniously interrupted by two Dwarrow lifting him up by the shoulder straps of his rucksack. Not much later he was on a pony, much to his dismay.

“Have you ever seen anyone as uncomfortable on their pony as him?” Hannar asked, nodding at master Baggins.

“Yes, actually. Well, technically a horse, but yes. And I probably would’ve fallen off by now. We don’t use ponies all that much, especially not for riding on.” I defended master Baggins. I didn’t know why, but I had the feeling I should.

“Oh, so you Hobbits prefer to ride bears!” Hannar joked. After his outburst earlier his nerves seemed to have calmed down a bit.

“It was only once, and I was extremely drunk. And I don’t remember any of it, so you just might’ve made that up the morning after.” I said with a played stern face.

“I swear on Mahal’s beard that I didn’t make that up. You just really can’t hold your drink. I was barely tipsy when you began to gibber and before I knew it, you were on top of that bear!” Hannar said, a beaming grin spreading on his face. “It’s no surprise that you can’t hold your drink though, you’re one scrawny lass.”

My good mood melted away the instant he said that. Scrawny, me? I preferred to think of myself as lanky, but he wasn’t wrong. My silhouette was as straight as a board, none of the curves a healthy Hobbit should have. Even tweens having a growth spurt had a healthier look to them than I on my best. I just couldn’t seem to gain any fat. I’d always look angular and gaunt, never chubby and desirable.

Hannar didn’t seem to notice my sudden shift in mood, and a long silence stretched between us. Even when Bilbo caused a sudden standstill, he said nothing.

When I looked at him, I understood why; he had a pensive look in his eyes. He looked at where he was going, but he didn’t see it. Guilt washed over me. I had worried about my looks, but he had the fate of his people on his shoulders, there was no telling what was going on in that head of his. Worries about getting the thirteen Dwarrow he was charged with safely to the Mountain, not to mention surviving the dragon, must’ve been wreaking havoc in his mind.

I made up my mind in that moment. Hannar needed someone to depend on, not another liability. I would try and lighten his load whenever I could. He wouldn’t see my fears, he didn’t need another thing to worry about. I would be strong so he wouldn’t have to worry about me, unexperienced as I was when it came to travelling. I hadn’t travelled much outside the Shire, after all.

Days stretched into weeks as we travelled east. Apparently, there were no inns east of Bree -at least none that were still in business. We slept on the road, which was quite the adjustment for master Baggins. He was visibly stiff, his movements almost calculated as to be the least painful.

As for me, I had to adjust to life on the road too, but in different ways. The long marches began to bore me; I had nothing to do while walking except to look around or talking to Hannar. We had only so many topics to talk about before running out.

While Hannar and I were very good friends, we were vastly different people with different interests. I had never been in his company for so long, and I realised the reason why we were friends was simply because we couldn’t really talk to anyone else. Still, I’d trust him with my life without a second thought.

Another thing I had to get used to was the vegetation; in the Shire I knew what was edible and what wasn’t, but now I was seeing plants that I’d never seen before. There was enough recognisable plantlife, but as we progressed, more and more plants I’d never seen bordered the road.

And last but not least, I had to get used to standing watch. Which brought more boredom. Carving my pipe wasn’t an option during my watch. Not only was it often too dark to do so, but it distracted me - I couldn’t carve blindly, and I couldn’t both look around and at my carving. 

We slowly progressed, mostly due to weather conditions. A week after we had set out on this quest it took a turn for the worse, several consecutive days with near-constant rain. After the first day, not even the beeswax on my coat could stop water from seeping through. Everyone was wet and cold, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make sparks spring from my snapping fingers. 

No spell that would get a fire going worked, and Hannar commented on it when he saw my frustration getting the better of me. “Calm down Rosa,” he stated dryly. “We both know you are useless on rainy days.” For some reason, maybe because he stated it so matter-of-factly, it broke my frustration and I began laughing. We were all cold and wet, the best we could do was make light of the situation.

One day we found a relatively dry overhang and we waited out the rain there. By the evening the rain had subsided, and the dark clouds seemed to be moving on to the west. We heard wargs howl that night, though. When the two princes - who were on guard duty - made light of it towards master Baggins, it triggered a long story about the reason why the Dwarf king hated Orcs so much. Afterwards I had the realisation that the king would do anything for his people, no matter how stupidly dangerous it seemed, whether it was taking on a terrible foe with the odds stacked against him, or facing a dragon so his people could return home. No wonder these Dwarrow followed him, I thought. The king would give up his life to save theirs, what more could you ask? Still I wondered if it made him incredibly brave, foolish, or both.


	5. A Spot Of Bother

We traveled without incident until king Thorin and Gandalf had a falling out - which resulted in the Wizard leaving the Company. I didn’t worry about it. We hadn’t had a spot of trouble yet.

Master Baggins went to bring the two princes their meal. I had the watch for the first half of the night, and I went with him, more to stretch my legs than anything.

When they didn’t react to Master Bilbo when he handed them their bowls, alarm bells started ringing in my head. Any other time they set themselves on their meal immediately and asked for seconds without fail. Something was wrong.

“What’s the matter?” master Baggins inquired, making the same connection as I had.

“We’re supposed to look after the ponies.” prince Kíli said.

“But we’ve encountered a slight problem,” His brother continued. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have said that the two were twins, always seemed to be knowing what the other was thinking and inseparable if they could help it. “We had sixteen, now there’s fourteen.” He paused. “Daisy and Bungo are missing.”

“Well, that’s not good.” master Baggins reacted. “And that,” he said, pointing at an uprooted tree, “is not good at all.” He chuckled nervously.”Shouldn’t we tell Thorin?”

“Uh, no.” prince Fíli answered, walking towards the roots of the tree. “Let’s not worry him. As our official burglar, we thought, you might like to look into it.”

One of the trees was large, about as broad as I was, so something big must’ve done it. And my experience taught me that big things excluding plants, more often than not, were dangerous.

Master Baggins voiced my thoughts. “Something big uprooted these trees.”

“That was our thinking.” The blond prince remarked.

“It’s something very big,” master Bilbo mused, walking towards the fallen tree himself, bowls still in his hands but nearly forgotten. “and possibly quite dangerous.”

I heard something rustling and looked to find the source. In the distance, there was a light, but it couldn’t have come from there, I wouldn’t have heard it. From the lightsource new sounds came; grunting and laughter.

I wouldn’t have known for the world what it could be. When master Bilbo asked in a hushed tone what it was, a reply came that I’d rather not have heard: Trolls.

I had heard of Trolls, but never had I encountered them. I would’ve liked to keep it that way. 

The two princes charged towards the light, and master Bilbo hesitantly followed, even going back for the two bowls of stew, that by now must’ve been tepid at best.

I followed as quietly as I could, which was made harder by the ferns hanging over the ground. I could only hope that they were preoccupied with the Trolls.

Any sound I made was quickly drowned out, however, by the stomping of a Troll and panicked neighing. The Troll had taken two more ponies.

“He’s got Myrtle and Minty! I think they’re gonna eat them, we’ve got to do something!” master Bilbo whispered.

“Yes, you should.” The dark-haired prince answered, shoving master Baggins towards his brother. “Mountain Trolls are slow and stupid,” he continued, paying no heed to the objecting Hobbit, “and you’re so small, they’ll never see you. It’ll be perfectly safe! We’ll be right behind you.”

I am by no means an expert on fighting trolls, but it seemed to me that, if master Baggins got noticed, two dwarves weren’t going to be able to free him. If they’d just scout out the situation beforehand and then return with the rest of the Company, I’d say we’d make a good chance. But nothing of the sort happened.

“If you run into trouble,” prince Fíli added, taking the bowl from master Bilbo and shoving him forward, “hoot twice like a barn owl and once like a brown owl.” I followed him and went ahead. I had no idea what they thought to achieve with the signals. Dumb as they were, even Trolls would suspect something if a Hobbit started hooting. If they even knew what a Hobbit was, of course.

We sneaked closer to the Trolls. The three of them sat around a fire in a semicircle, with none of them facing the pen where the kidnapped ponies were being held. One of them was cooking something, while another was sharpening a knife. Well, I say a knife, because to the Troll it probably was. If I were to wield it, I’d need two hands just to swing it around.

Crawling past the Trolls, I suddenly thought of something. I wouldn’t be able to help master Bilbo free the ponies. If I’d cut open the pen, he’d notice me. If I tried to distract the Trolls, he’d notice me.

And so I hung back, hoping that master Baggins would succeed in the attempt. I saw him struggle with the ropes and realised that I had never seen him with any kind of blade, except when cooking. He probably didn’t have anything sharp on his person to cut the ropes with!

I saw that the Troll that wasn’t doing anything had a blade strapped to his loincloth. I was thinking of a way to make master Baggins notice it, when he began moving towards it. And promptly turned around. A second try had him crawling over remains of the Trolls previous meals along the pen. A searching hand forced him backwards, back to where he started. He then froze as the Trolls squabbled over a ‘cup’ of grogg. Third time’s the charm, and master Bilbo had finally reached the Troll.

He hesitated before taking hold of the blade, but it was just too late. The Troll stood up to scratch his bottom and master Baggins was forced to let the blade go. The second attempt was made with much less hesitation, but the Troll that had been sharpening his blade stood up and walked over to the pen. There was nowhere to hide for master Bilbo, I had to… With a sudden movement, the Troll he was trying to rob grabbed the Hobbit in his handkerchief before sneezing on him.

It was an unexpected turn of events to say the least. I broke the spell that kept the conversations between Hannar and me unheard and began hooting. I didn’t know what the exact signal was anymore, but the two Dwarven princes would hopefully get the message anyway.

The Troll had dropped master Bilbo, and he tried to escape. He didn’t quite get away, the Troll with the blade grabbing him by the legs and bringing him up to eye level.

A rustle beside me made me almost jump out of my skin. It was Hannar, his battle-axe at the ready. Before he could ask me what was going on, I whispered, “Broke the spell. Now’s not the time to recast it.”

He nodded and turned his eyes to the Trolls, assessing the situation. A moment later pince Kíli broke from the treeline, slashing at one of the Troll’s legs, before demanding master Bilbo be dropped. He got his wish, in a way. Master Baggins was flung at him, the two colliding bodily. The other Dwarrow broke the treeline as well with a battlecry.

Hannar and I stormed in to join the fight. It was complete and utter chaos, perfect for going unnoticed whilst being useful. I drew my knives and began dancing around the fire, slashing at the Trolls and being gone by the time they knew what hit them.

Their hide was though, my slashes barely getting through. I slashed harder, putting more weight behind them, and finally drawing blood. It was thick and black, with an orange sheen where it reflected light. The Dwarrow had their own dance, coörinated and lethal, but they got in the way unknowingly.

I almost got hit by a staff, narrowly avoiding it and tripping as a result. I stood back up and wanted to continue, but I froze when a something occurred to me: master Bilbo had nothing to defend himself with on his body. The chaos was now my enemy, making it difficult to find him.

A few fearful moments later, I saw him. He was by the pen, sawing through the ropes. Fear turned into irritation. It might’ve been the goal at the start, but freeing the ponies was no one’s priority right now. It’d probably do more harm than good. I didn’t see the Troll until it was too late; he had master Bilbo in his hand, and the clamor faded.

Two Trolls held master Baggins between them now, each an arm and a leg. “Lay down your arms,” they demanded, “or we’ll rip his off.”

Grudgingly, the Company obliged, throwing down their weapons in frustration.

The Trolls bagged the Company, leaving just their heads poking out. A bit sadistic if you ask me - they were completely powerless and had to watch their comrades getting cooked, or stare into the fire themselves.

Hannar and I sat next to each other, Hannar looking quite discouraged. I wasn’t ready to give up, though. If only there was a way to distract them from cooking the company… All tales and legends I heard involving Trolls ended with the Trolls turning to stone, the protagonist clever enough to stall for time.

I came up with something that would buy some time, maybe enough to think of something else. I began muttering a spell beneath my breath, words of calming, waning, withering and finally, dying, flowing to weave something dense, smothering. I would try to put out the fire with it. The Trolls would have to light a new fire, not an easy task in the dark. They would need to find tinder and whatever they used to light it.

Slowly but surely I saw my spell working, the flames becoming smaller, less embers flying into the night. The Trolls weren’t as dim-witted as I had hoped, though. One of them went to get more firewood to throw on the fire. While he was gone, I didn’t quite manage to let the fire diminish to embers. He threw the new logs on, embers scattering and the flames hungrily licking them. I stubbornly continued weaving the words. It had to work, what else were we going to do?

I was so focussed on putting out the fire, that Hannar managed to scare me again. He put a hand on my shoulder and smiled sadly. “Stop it, Rosa.” He whispered, “It’s not gonna work.”

“You don’t know that! I have to try…” I said, just before a wave of tiredness hit me. New spells were so much more exhausting than known ones. I had forgotten about it, not having tried new spells in Lady knows how long. “How can you just give up?” I breathed.

“They all said this quest was foolish. That we’d all die before we even reached the mountain, and otherwise would be burned by the dragon. They were right.” Hannar answered.

Just as I had forgotten about the exhaustion a new spell brings, I had forgotten that, for Hannar, this was more than just an adventure. It was about taking his home back from the dragon that had stolen it many years ago. He had lost so much then and the time that followed; his home, his father, his brother. Not to mention that, just after his first real battle, he was Crossed, severing him from the remnants of his family and leaving him no time to mourn. 

He was happy in the Blue Mountains, from what I could gather. It was a home after years of roaming Middle-Earth, safety after one to many battles. I think he wanted to go back to the Lonely Mountain, I really do, but he was hesitant about it. Maybe he was afraid of what he would find there. It was no longer the home he vaguely remembered, it was a dragon’s hoard.

I cannot say for certain why he seemed almost eager to give up, to admit to the elders of the other dwarven kingdoms that they were right, that Erebor would be as Moria; a great kingdom fallen. But I had my suspicions. 

We both stood there in silence. If he felt that way, there was nothing more to be said.

My ears perked up when I heard a familiar voice. “Wait! You are making a terrible mistake!”

Master Baggins hopped towards the fire, now hosting a spit instead of a cauldron. “I meant with the seasoning.” I decided that I would thank Yavanna on my bare knees if this worked. If he could just keep them busy, they would be forced to flee from the sunlight without eating anyone!

Just to make sure that the Dwarron on the spit wouldn’t end up roasted, I began the fire-killing spell anew, this time merely trying to lessen the flames to a tolerable level. I noticed that containing fire was much easier than killing it, and I could listen to the diversion.

“What about the seasoning?” The apron-wearing Troll asked, stooping to look master Baggins in the eye.

“Well, have you smelt them?” He asked, nodding towards the Dwarrow that weren’t on the spit. “You’re gonna need something stronger than sage before you plate this lot up.”

“What do you know about cooking Dwarf?” The most intelligent of the three asked. Well, intelligent for a Troll, he managed to capture master Bilbo twice already. In the background there were complaints and -most likely- insults from the Dwarrow.

“Shut up.” The cook said. “Let the flurgaburburhobbit talk.” He seemed genuinely interested.

“The secret to cooking Dwarf is…” master Bilbo hesitantly began before falling still.

“Yes? Come on, tell us the secret!” The cook demanded.

“It’s, uh…” Master Baggins hesitated, and the cook commanded to tell him once more. “Yes, I’m telling you, the secret to cooking Dwarf is… to… skin them first!” Master Baggins said, the last words very noticeably made up on the spot and a bit too enthusiastic. They sparked a riot in the Dwarrow nonetheless.

The cook seemed eager to try it, but the two other Trolls disagreed, saying that Dwarrow could be eaten raw, one even wanting to demonstrate.

I stopped weaving my spell and looked up at the sky to see how long it would be before dawn. Not too long, luckily, because master Baggins was running out of ideas.

“Not that one!” He yelled. “He’s infected!” The Troll paused, leaving the poor Dwarf dangling upside down.

“You what?” The ‘intelligent’ Troll asked.

“He’s got worms in his… tubes.” master Baggins replied. When the Dwarf was dropped, he continued. “In fact, they all have. They’re infested with parasites. It’s a terrible business, I wouldn’t risk it, I really wouldn’t.”

It sparked an outrage amongst the Dwarrow, contradicting that they had parasites. A not so subtle shove from their king made them change their minds, and they all began claiming to have the biggest parasites. I just hoped the Trolls were stupid enough to believe them.

I was wrong. The brightest of the three caught onto the ruse. I could only hope that the Company lived to see the dawn. The sky had turned to a lighter blue, the fluffy clouds reflecting the faintest trace of yellow. The Trolls, however, hadn’t noticed yet.

“The dawn will take you all, and be stone with you!” A voice bellowed, before it’s owner stepped onto a boulder east to the fireplace, hiding the light of the dawn for now. It was Gandalf, standing there for a moment before raising his staff, taking a step aside and splitting the boulder. The effect was immediate: ribbons of smoke rose from the Trolls, raising their arms as if it would protect them from the light. It was futile, and soon they were stone.

A cheer erupted from the Dwarrow, soon joined by disgruntled barks from the ones stringed up to the spit. As soon as there were enough Dwarrow free to reach their comrades, they were helped down.

Hannar walked around, his eyes big in wonder. The Company had survived the night, no matter how unlikely it had seemed. Maybe this quest wasn’t as impossible as the other clans had claimed. When he turned and looked at me, a cautious smile lit up his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The inpiration for Rosalyn's knives are seaxes, if anyone wonders.


	6. A Helping Sled

Not long after every Dwarf that had been on the spit had been taken down, the king ordered the Company to look for a cave; the Trolls must’ve had somewhere to hide from the daylight.

The smell gave the approximate location, and it didn’t take long before the cave had been found. It was a dark hole in the ground filled with the buzzing of insects and, quite probably, treasure.

I went down to see for myself what there was to be found, breathing through my mouth with my nose squeezed shut so I wouldn’t have to smell whatever rotting things were inside. A weight pressed on my chest, but I remained calm and braved the cave. I would have to go into the Mountain when we got there, this was nothing compared to that, I told myself. I took a handful of gold coins. You never knew what they would be good for. Three Dwarrow were filling a small chest with the gold and burying it. “We’re making a long-term deposit.” One of them joked. I looked around to see if there was anything of interest left. My eyes locked onto a basket filled with swords. Master Bilbo didn’t have anything to defend himself.

I went to inspect the swords. If one looked to be the right size, I would make sure he ‘found’ it. How exactly, I didn’t know yet. A strange bump in the ground made me pause. It was smooth, unlike anything in this cave. I squatted to inspect it, and found it to be a pommel of a blade. I took the hilt in my hand and found that it was the perfect size for a hand-and-a-half sword. I pulled out the blade a bit. It was in perfect condition, and a quick test made clear that it was still sharp.

I had to scramble out of the way when king Thorin declared that they would be leaving the cave. Before I could grab the blade, Gandalf crouched, the blade’s reflection of light having caught his eyes. He picked it up, and I could only hope he’d give it to master Baggins.

He fortunately did. Master Baggins objected, even after the Wizard said that the sword would warn him for Orcs and Goblins. “I have never used a sword in my life.” master Bilbo admitted, after making sure there weren’t any Dwarrow listening in.

“And I hope you never have to.” Gandalf replied. “But if you do, remember this; true courage is about not when to take a life, but when to spare one.” I disagree, to some degree. Courage, for me, has always been about looking your fears dead in the eyes and conquering them. I suppose that this could also be applied to what the Wizard said, but it didn’t encompass everything.

The king declared that the Company would rest the rest of the morning, since the encounter with the Trolls had left everyone without their much-needed rest. They went back to camp, and most Dwarrow just collapsed onto their bedroll, sleeping soundly before long. The princes were on guard duty, as they had been the ones deciding not to inform their uncle of the missing ponies. If they had, the night would’ve turned out very different.

Master Baggins seemed to have trouble sleeping, tossing and turning on his bedroll. No wonder, I thought. This was just a taste of what danger this journey entailed.

“Maybe you should rest some too.” Hannar said. “I’ll stand watch.”

Other times I might’ve objected, but now the danger had subsided the exhaustion of creating a new spell hit me in full. I just nodded appreciatively and unrolled my own bedroll. I lay down and curled myself under my cloak. Even in broad daylight, I slept in just a moment.

I woke up confused and a bit disoriented. I didn’t remember much from whatever dream had woken me, but it had been a strange one for certain. I felt well enough to get through today, so I packed my bedroll up and relieved an exhausted Hannar from his watch. He didn’t have his bedroll in his hands or a panicked voice was heard, somewhere in the distance.

The watch - I think his name was Bofur? - quickly woke everyone, and the whole Company had packed up and armed themselves in a matter of minutes. Well, except for master Baggins. He packed up as quick as he could, but was more than hesitant to draw his sword.

He did draw it, and stood a moment to look at the blade. He then joined the rest of the company as they retreated back into the woods. When the voice was joined by rustling, he tried to look dangerous by holding the sword with both hands, level with the forest floor. What was he thinking? That whatever it was would just run into it? He had much to learn before he could defend himself.

“Thieves, fire, murder!” The voice was now distinguishably shouting. What come after it out of the shrubbery was unique, to say the least. In all my years walking on this green arda, never had I seen a sled pulled by rabbits. The figure on the sled was a disheveled mess, but who am I to judge? Gandalf recognized his colleague, Radagast, and introduced him to the company. Radagast was rambling something to Gandalf, and they walked a bit away, wanting some privacy.

The Company relaxed somewhat, though they kept out their weapons. Those who hadn’t eaten before they fell asleep grabbed a quick bite, and I felt my stomach rumbling. I didn’t act on it. Something felt off, and I wouldn’t want to be forced to flee without my backpack.

A howl cut through the air. It was wolf-like, but not quite. “Was that a wolf? Are there wolves out here?” master Baggins asked, eyes wide and visibly uncomfortable. The sound must’ve reminded him of how wolves stalked the streets of Hobbiton during the fell winter, searching for food. I had tried my best to keep them out, drive them away. But I had failed, and there had been attacks. If anyone had actually died from them, I hadn’t heard about it, though.

“Wolves? No, that is not a wolf.” Bofur answered, just as uncomfortable as Bilbo.

I saw the thing before it attacked, and I froze. It was much larger than a wolf, as tall as I was and most definitely heavier. Its eyes seemed to glow with an unnatural yellow light.

It growled, giving its position away. The Dwarrow made short work of it, bashing it in the head and slashing its throat. A second one approached, but prince Kíli shot it in the eye with his bow.

“Warg scouts.” King Thorin grumbled. “Which means an Orc pack isn’t far behind.”

The Wizards had returned with worried looks on their faces. “Who did you tell about your quest beyond your kin?” Gandalf asked.

“No one.” The king answered.

“Who did you tell?” Gandalf demanded.

“No one, I swear!” The king defended himself. “What in Durin’s name is going on?!”

“You are being hunted.” Gandalf replied. 

Then came the poor news that the ponies had fled. There was not a chance we’d be able to outrun the wargs. Our prospects were slightly lightened by Radagast volunteering to draw our pursuers’ attention. 

We took off, led by Gandalf and trying to stay out of the sight of the wargs and their riders. Their howls filled the air and spurred me on more than the Wizard could. I didn’t know where we were going, nor did I care. What I did care about was how we were going to lose the Orc pack. Radagast seemed to lead them around in wide circles around us. Sooner or later we would slip up and I wanted to be ready for it. I untied my sling from my belt and took a clay bullet out of my pouch.

We hid briefly behind a stony hill, resting for a moment. I heard pawsteps, closer than I could allow. I couldn’t kill it without drawing the attention of the Company. Not from this standpoint, at least. Before I could come up with a plan for disposing of the warg, Kíli had drawn his bow and shot the warg. A second arrow flew for its rider. Both were dealt with swiftly, but with too much noise. If this didn’t alert the pack of our whereabouts, I wouldn’t know what would.

Again we ran, now without the cover Radagast had provided us before. We struggled to stay ahead of the pack, and before long they had us surrounded. It seemed that the Wizard had disappeared into thin air, leaving us to fend for ourselves.

“Stand your ground!” The king roared. I stood on the other side of a stony outcrop, letting bullets fly to keep the Orc pack from attacking the Company in the back. While the bullets were effective enough against the Orcs, slinging them from their mounts, the wargs paid little attention to them. I hit them square in the head, and still they kept approaching.

The situation seemed to have only one outcome until a familiar voice called out. “This way, you fools!” It came from the other side of the outcrop. I climbed on top of it, both to see what was going on on the other side, and to be able to shoot all the surrounding Orcs. The Wizard had been in a crack in the ground that I hadn’t noticed earlier.

One by one, the company jumped into it, the king standing outside it until all members of the Company were inside, and then jumped into it himself. Hannar quickly followed. I jumped down and stood beside it. I could give the Company a chance of getting away if I could keep the pack busy. I tied my sling quickly back on my belt and took out my knives. If this was my end, it would be bloody and messy, I would take as many of them with me. A warg charged towards the crack, and I felt something ancient flare up inside me. They could see me now, I knew. I intercepted the warg, pushing one knife into its eye and slashing the other across the neck. It collapsed on top of me, pinning me to the ground. I struggled to get out from under it. An Orc unmounted and walked towards me with a sadistic grin on his face. It did nothing to make it more handsome.

I struggled harder, but the Orc stood over me now, raising its mace. I closed my eyes and did a quick prayer to make my death swift, but then I heard a horn blowing, followed by hooves and a dull thud. I opened my eyes to see the Orc get propelled backwards into the crack. It had probably turned around to see what was going on, but had received an arrow into his head for his trouble.

I felt the flare dying down, making me invisible to the world of the Light once again. In the general chaos of the moment, I struggled some more and was able to free my arms. Slowly but surely I got out from under the warg. I jumped down the crack and saw the Company following a path.

I took a moment to calm down, before checking if I had any injuries. Luckily, the blood I was covered in wasn’t mine. There were no open wounds. As far as I was able to tell, I hadn’t cracked my ribs. I seemed to have gotten away no worse for the wear. When I went to follow the Company though, I noticed my right foot hurt when I stepped on it. I would have Hannar look at it when we had the chance. While limping towards the Company, I recast the spell that would keep Hannar and me unheard. Wherever we were going, it had to be better than the battlefield we left behind.


	7. A Brief Respite

The crack in the ground seemed to go on forever. The more I limped forward, the more I felt like I was suffocating. I wasn’t meant for tight spaces, for Yavanna’s sake! At times it got so bad I had to stop and calm down a bit. The corridor was mostly straight, so I didn’t worry about losing the Company any time soon. Sometimes, there were hold-ups, and I would almost catch up before they took off again.

The Company seemed to have reached a widening part of the tunnel. Maybe the end? They seemed to spill out, eager to see where the Wizard had led them. At least, that was my wishful thinking. I didn’t seem to be wrong though. From what I heard, the Dwarrow didn’t like it much. The Company had moved on by the time I got out. 

For a moment I just enjoyed the slight breeze, the fading sunlight on my face, and the weight lifting from my chest and shoulders.

Then I looked to see where we had ended up. A valley, painted golden green by the light, with silver running through it. And in between, buildings. Like none I had ever seen, they seemed to be open, letting the wind flow through them. They were stately, but not unwelcoming. The sheer foreignness of the buildings could, in my mind, only mean one thing; we were almost in Rivendell.

Almost being the keyword here. There was still a way to go, but the promise of a real meal was enough to encourage me on, my foot be damned. The path descended steadily, twisting and turning. Occasionally, another path joined it.

I saw a road - a proper, paved road - joining the path, or the path joining the road, leading to a bridge, which gave access to a courtyard. The Company was gathered here. Hannar, who presumably had been leading the group, was with his back to me. I breathed in deeply to shout at him, to let him know I was here. But then a horn sounded in the distance, and a party of Elves mounted on horses came thundering by, drowning my voice. The Dwarrow immediately closed their ranks, while the Elves circled them. I’d let him know later, then.

The Elves took their horses to the stables soon enough, leaving the Company to follow their host. Hannar followed too, leaving the courtyard empty.

I had finally reached the road. I paused for a bit to rest my foot. The Company was as safe as could be, there was no rush to keep up with them. For the first time, I actually looked down at my foot to see what was wrong. Both the arch and ball of my foot were a bright red, and when I touched it, it felt hot, as if I had a fever. Not that I could actually be having a fever. I hadn’t gotten sick in all my time as a Guardian.

I continued on, debating whether I would go to Hannar first, or seek out Glirdir. He was bound to be in the stables. He never missed a hunt if he could help it. The Valley might be a place of peace, but he was as close to a captain of the guard as he could be without a formal guard to command, a position he had carved out for himself as the Guardian of Rivendell.

When I had reached the courtyard, I realised that I had no idea where the stables were. Or where the Company was, for that matter. I wandered around, hoping to find something that would point me in the right direction. Instead of finding something, someone found me.

Glirdir, still armour clad, tapped on my shoulder, and motioned to follow him. While I did, I looked around. Open as it was, this place was a veritable labyrinth of corridors and stairways. I wouldn’t want to get lost.

We got to his chambers, and he ushered me inside. All the while, he hadn’t said a word to me. 

Unlike Guardians for any other race, Elves still were visible to non-Guardians. Perhaps because Elves didn’t age in the way the other races did. It would be suspicious if a Hobbit didn’t change in appearance as the years went by, but Elves? They barely changed after they came of age.

“Nice to see you again, Rosalyn.” He greeted when had closed the door behind us. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” The room was cosy and, to my surprise, open enough for me not to feel trapped.

“I suppose so.” I answered. The last time I’d seen him had been in the Fell Winter, when the Elves and Rangers came to help fend off the wolves. “It’s nice to see you again too, but please, call me Rosa.” He wouldn’t. Elves attached a lot of importance to names. As far as I knew, nicknames were only for their closest relatives, if any. 

“Where’s the food?” I asked, now the niceties were out of the way. 

“Blunt as ever.” Glirdir answered, starting to take his plate-armour off. “I’ll get some in a moment. I can’t just barge in, looking like I just came out of battle.” He paused. “Speaking of, shouldn’t you change too? You look like you’ve been to death’s door and fought your way back.” He said, eyeing my blood-covered jumper.

“I should.” But I didn’t move to do so. Glirdir seemed to get the hint and went into a room I presumed to be his bedroom, murmuring a “Don’t touch my things.” I tried to quickly change but found that the blood had stuck the jumper to my skin, and I had to carefully peel it off. The blood-soaked wool was as tough as leather, and had about the same colour.

I looked at my pack. Its straps also had a coat of blood on them. I hoped we could stay a while, so I could wash both my pack and this jumper to a point where the blood was mostly out of it.

But those were worries for another day. Tomorrow, probably, but another day still. What was a worry for today was finding Hannar. He’d probably stay close to the Company. If I could find them, I would find him. I’d ask Glirdir where they most likely would be assigned sleeping quarters. That sounded like a plan.

I put on my other jumper, this one a deep green instead of the sunflower yellow I much preferred. I hoped that it wasn’t ruined completely. I was quite attached to the jumper, and finding a replacement wouldn’t be easy. In the past few years, greens and reds had taken the place of the yellows in the Shire’s ever-changing fashionable colours. I’d see them on the clotheslines in Hobbiton first, then bloom out until the colours could be seen everywhere. When unexpectedly strong winds blew clothes right from their lines, I’d pick up what fit me. It wasn’t stealing, technically, but I often still felt bad over it. But it kept me clothed, and I’d have two or three jumpers and breeches at a time.

A few knocks interrupted my thoughts. “Are you decent?” Glirdir asked through the door.

“I am.” I replied. Glirdir opened the door, and he looked completely different from the warrior that I knew. Clad in a light brown tunic and a umber pair of pants, he looked much less stoic.

“Would you please look out for Hannar?” I asked. “I suspect he’ll be with the Company, but you never know.”

“I will.” Glirdir answered before he opened the door, and left for the kitchens.

I looked around for a bit. There wasn’t much to look at, though. The room was sparse, just a table, chairs, some cabinets, and a fireplace. I wanted to snoop through the cabinets, but I restrained myself. The Elf would certainly not appreciate it, and he had no obligation to host me or Hannar. He could just send us away to stay with the Company. I’d like to spar some with him. It could be very useful to see how an Elf fought from up close. Maybe I could even use some techniques myself, you never knew. 

I walked to the balcony. There were wooden panels to close off the room from the cold, but in summer they were left open day and night, I assumed. The balcony had a beautiful view of the valley. The moon and the first stars started to appear, while the sun was setting somewhere out of my sight. The clouds were painted yellow, orange and pink, while the sky itself faded from blue to indigo. I didn’t know which I found more beautiful. I could watch this for hours, until all the stars were out.

I apparently had stood there for a while, the sound of the door closing alerting me of Glirdir’s return. I smelled fresh bread and my stomach rumbled. I hadn’t eaten for almost a day, I realised. It wasn’t the first time it had happened, and I doubted that it would be the last. Most Hobbits would have objected to doing anything if they hadn’t eaten in more than a few hours, but then again, I was as un-Hobbitish as a Hobbit could be. I usually barely got to have three meals a day, knew how to use my knives lethally, and I liked to think that I had a rather large sense for adventure.

I was almost knocked over on my way to the table by Hannar. “Thank the Maker, you’re still alive!” He said while enveloping me in a bear hug.

“Not for much longer.” I joked. “You’re crushing me.” He let me go, his hands lingering on my shoulders for a moment.

“I’m just so glad you’re still in one piece, Rosa.” He said. “I honestly didn’t believe the Elf when he said you were alive and well in his rooms.” He continued, not paying attention to said Elf, who had sat down at the table and had begun eating.

I hobbled over to join him, pulling out an open-backed chair from under the table. I climbed on and sat down with my legs tucked under me, making me just tall enough to comfortably eat. Glirdir had brought an array of greens and mushrooms along with the bread. I eagerly began eating.

Hannar poked at the now exposed footpad, sending a sharp pain through my foot. “Can you not?” I asked, maybe a bit more sharply than I intended.

“It seems you’ve strained some tendons in your foot.” He murmured, more to himself than as an answer. Hannar had been a healer before he was Crossed, and it showed. Don’t get me wrong, it was nice to have someone to patch you back up, but he could be a bit overbearing. Personal boundaries sometimes didn’t seem to exist for him, but that seemed to be true for a lot of Dwarrow. From my perspective, at least. He could be very particular about his hair, though.

“I could do something about it,” He said absentmindedly, “But I think it’s better for you if you just walk it off.”

A snicker came from the Elf, a smile plastered on his face. When I raised my eyebrow at him, he said, “That’ll be a problem, as you’re limping.” I rolled my eyes and continued eating. The rest of the meal was accompanied with idle chatter and Hannar’s complaints that there was no meat. All in all, a very nice meal.

The evening went by with stories and tall tales told by candlelight until the moon was high and we bid each other good night.

Two weeks went by like a flash, my days filled by long walks around the valley, sparring with both Glirdir and Hannar, and trips to the kitchens for snacks and replenishing my stocks. After that first evening Glirdir didn’t stay in anymore. He had to keep up appearances, and apparently, evening gatherings were very important for that. Sometimes I would go and listen to the Elves reciting their poetry and singing songs in a tongue that I didn’t understand, but liked to listen to anyway. Other evenings I sought out a spot to carve my pipe. I wasn’t used to this much social contact, and it was quite exhausting. 

I soon had found a place where nobody ever came: a ledge under an overhang and surrounded by waterfalls. At the end of the ledge, there was a semi-circle carved into it, surrounding something like a crystal table. It had had a use once, if the wear on the stairs was something to go by. I liked it because even if I sat there a whole night, the moon always lit the ledge.

This night was Midsummer’s Eve, Glirdir had told me, inviting me to the festivities. Normally I would have accepted, but I was so very tired of constant company that I had chosen not too. Midsummer had never been my favorite holiday, anyway. Both Beltane and Mabon beat it easily, followed by Yule and Ostara. I could hear the festivities from here, albeit faintly.

I sat there, carving a spiral winding down the stem. I had decided that the pipe would be decorated with a dragon, and the spiral would be its tail. A bit different than what I usually carved, but I’d make it work. I almost ruined my work when an Elf walked past, startling me. He was followed by the Wizard, two Dwarrow -the King and his advisor- and master Baggins.

“These runes were written on a Midsummer’s Eve by the light of a crescent moon nearly two hundred years ago.” The Elf, who I now recognised as Lord Elrond, said. “It would seem that you were meant to come to Rivendell. Fate is with you, Thorin Oakenshield. The same moon shines upon us tonight.” Whatever was going on had piqued my interest. I’d have to tell Hannar about this. Where was he, anyway? Had he adopted the same mindset as I had, assuming his charges couldn’t get into much trouble here? Or was he simply enjoying the festival and hadn’t noticed?

They all stood around the crystal, making it hard for me to see what was going on. The moon came back from out under the clouds and I saw the column of light that always formed when the moon shone on the crystal appear. 

“Stand by the grey stone as the thrush knocks,” The Elf said slowly, “And the setting sun with the last light of Durin’s Day will shine upon the keyhole.”

“Durin’s Day?” Master Baggins asked.

“It is the start of the Dwarves new year, when the last sun of autumn and the first sun of winter appear in the sky together.” The Wizard supplied.

The Dwarrow then went on to reveal the purpose of the quest. If the Elven lord. I doubted they had done it earlier. Secrecy was a specialty of the Dwarrow, and the less people that knew about the quest, the better.

My suspicion was proven true when Lord Elrond reacted. “So this is your purpose, to enter the Mountain?”

“What of it?” King Thorin retorted defensively.

“There are some who would not deem it wise.” The Lord answered, offering a piece of paper to the King.

“What do you mean?” Gandalf asked, a slight tone of worry in his voice.

“You are not the only guardian standing watch over Middle-Earth.” Lord Elrond answered, before turning and walking away. I could only hope that he had meant the other Wizards. Glirdir hadn’t told him, had he? I’d take him up on it the next time I’d see him.

The next time would be a while, it seemed. The Wizard instructed the Dwarrow to leave the Valley the same night. They would meet in the Misty Mountains, where they’d continue the quest together once again.

I tucked my pipe and carving knife away and ran up the stairs. I had to find Hannar to get him to pack up. I could only hope that he wasn’t too drunk jet. I wouldn’t want to carry him over rough terrain in the dark.

I found Hannar with the rest of the Company, pacing up and down with a panicked look on his face. He didn’t even notice me until I stood in front of him.

“Rosa! I’ve lost the King!” He rattled, gesturing wildly and still pacing. “And it shouldn’t be a big deal, but there’s this map and it’s important and we need to know what’s on there and…”

“Hannar, calm down!” I interrupted him. “I know what was on the map, but right now, we need to pack up. We’re moving out.” I took him by the arm and began walking towards Glirdir’s chambers. I explained what had happened, and what was on the map. We quickly packed up and returned to the Company, who were almost packed up themselves at that point. I regretted that I couldn’t say goodbye to Glirdir, or thank him for his hospitality.

We moved out as soon as the last things were packed. The light of the moon seemed like it was less bright on the ledges we travelled than it had been when I had been carving. By morning, Rivendell was just a sight in the distance. I couldn’t help but feeling like our adventure had only just begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hollidays mentioned are actually Pagan, but as it is nature-worship and the Hobbits were made by Yavanna, the Vala of growing things, I personally think it's quite fitting.


	8. Meetings In The Dark

We had been able to see the Misty Mountains since we had lost sight of Rivendell, and we were slowly closing in. The most interesting thing that had happened in the few days that had passed was the waterfall we had to cross behind. I had only seen waterfalls in Rivendell, but I hadn’t gone behind one. It was beautiful, but we had to watch our step, the stone slippery because of the constant drops of water hitting it.

On an especially steep hill, I took the time to look around. The Mountains, green beneath grey beneath white tops, had been growing and so had my fear. The Mountains were so big, seemingly endless. I wasn’t as worried about crossing it now, with Hannar by my side. He had crossed the Misty Mountains before, and so had most Dwarrow in the Company. But how could I possibly cross them again on the way back? And would I cross them again? Behind those mountains lay a part of the world that was completely unknown to me. For the first time what seemed like forever, I felt so very small, insignificant even. With this wreaking havoc in my mind, my feet carried me forward, to a world unknown.

I tried not to show any of those thoughts. Hannar already had fourteen lives to worry over, including his own. He didn’t need to worry over me as well.

Hannar had once spoken about ‘living’ stone, and back then, I didn’t understand him. I now got the feeling I did. I saw plants growing out of cracks and stubborn mountain goats climbing up steep walls to get to them. But the mountains themselves didn’t seem to want to be disturbed. The wind sometimes sounded like a breath and the echoes were unsettling. The Company spoke as little as possible because of this. Even Hannar seemed to be affected by the Mountain, growing even more quiet than usual.

Because of the map’s prediction, King Thorin had gotten more hasty. He quickly made the decision that they wouldn’t wait for the Wizard, it would take too much time. We carried on, and while it became colder as we trekked higher into the mountains, the weather held up nicely. For days, we had blue skies. Hannar said this caused the rockslides that sometimes passed beside us (which was frightening already) or over us (which was downright terrifying, small pebbles hitting us while large boulders raced over us).

Then, one day, clouds gathered. “We’re going to have a storm this evening.” I said, looking at the dark clouds. Hannar looked up, but just shrugged. Just to be sure, I asked him to walk in front of the Company, while I would bring up the rear, when we paused for lunch. It couldn’t have been worse timing, as we were now heading onto a narrow pass. Lo and behold, some hours later it began to drizzle. The king, pressed for time, didn’t pay much attention to it, though we were forced to slow down due to the slippery rock. The drizzle soon became rain, and then it began to bucket down. 

“We need to find shelter!” The king commanded, after Bilbo had almost fallen off the pass because it’s edge had crumbled beneath his feet. 

A “Look out!” from a voice I thought to be Dwalin’s had us hugging the mountain wall as boulders came racing down once more, right over our heads. 

A softer voice, almost drowned out by the rain and thunder, yelled something about thunderstorm and battle. What he had actually said, I saw for myself. It wasn’t a thunderstorm, but a thunder battle! Stone Giants stood up from their seats in the mountain and walked right out of the realm of fairy tales, throwing chunks of mountain to each other. And we were in the middle of it all.

The pass began to move beneath my feet, throwing me off balance. We were on a Giant! It stepped towards another, not even paying attention to the little creatures on its legs. Without warning it changed direction, throwing my balance completely off. I didn’t know how much of this I could take anymore without falling off. As I held on for dear life, I saw the other half of the Company right in front of me. All I heard was the rain and a command, “Jump off!”.

The Giant now moved towards the mountain, bringing it uncomfortably close. I jumped just before it collided. I hadn’t quite made the distance, hanging on to the ledge. Soon enough I found footholds, but before I could pull myself up, the other half of the Company rushed towards their comrades, Hannar leading. He hadn’t seen me. Beside me, I heard a fearful grunt. Beside me dangled Master Baggins, without footholds. I sighed and climbed over, determined to give him one. He slipped before I could help him. I climbed further down, until I was beneath him. There was no way up, to give him a foothold. When he fell, he would take me with him.

He didn’t fall though, a helpful Dwarf climbing down to get master Baggins up. With the rain in my face, I couldn’t see who it was. Master Bilbo was helped up, and the Dwarf who helped him caught before he could fall. I climbed back up the way I had come. I put my arms on the ledge, and as I tried to pull myself up I found that I had no more strength left to do so. My chest was heaving, and it was a matter of time before I would fall if I didn’t get help.

“Hannar!” I cried, trying to get over the sound of the rain, beating down mercilessly. “Hannar, over here!” Warm tears mixed with the cold, uncaring rain. “Help me! Please!” I began slipping, no longer having any grip on the stone. I had thought for a long time I was no longer afraid of death. I could take on goblins and other intruders without fear, even if they outnumbered me. But now, hanging on with the last of my strength, I felt deeply afraid.

I almost fell, when two strong hands gripped my wrists. They pulled me up halfway, and I tried to swing my leg over the edge. “Don’t.” Hannar grunted when he slipped forward. He pulled again, pulling me to safety.

I lay there, on the cold, wet stone, and cried like I hadn’t for ages, before being put back on my feet by Hannar. “What is it about you and almost dying?” He chuckled, gently guiding me toward the Company, who had found shelter in a cave. All the while, he tried to soothe me. He set me down near the cave entrance and sat down beside me, patiently waiting until I was out of tears. I got over the shock pretty quickly after I sat down, but the tears kept coming. 

When I had finally calmed down, the Dwarrow were all soundly snoring away, except the one standing guard. “Are you alright?” Hannar asked.

“Just about.” I replied with a small smile, tears still covering my cheeks. “I owe you one. Thank you.”

“You would have done the same.” He said, shrugging it off as if he hadn’t just saved my life.

I couldn’t have been able to pull him onto the ledge. He was to heavy for me to lift. He knew that as well as I did, but we didn’t mention it.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight, so I’ll keep watch…” I trailed off, hearing rustling in the back of the cave. Master Baggins was packing up. My heart sank. Was he going to give up? I couldn’t continue the journey if he didn’t. I didn’t want to say goodbye to Hannar just yet. I prayed silently to whatever Vala that would listen. To make master Baggins reconsider, to give us more time. If I said goodbye, it would be the last time we saw each other. Hannar, different as he was, was much more to me than a friend. He was the brother I had lost. I knew we had to part ways at the end of this journey, even if I couldn’t make peace with it. But not quite yet, I pleaded.

When master Baggins moved to leave the cave, I begrudgingly stood up. “Take care of yourself.” I whispered to Hannar, although there was no reason to.

Master Baggins paused, and a second later, I heard the king yelling “Wake up!” before the floor fell out from under us. We tumbled through tunnels until I didn’t know anymore which way was up. To make matters worse, panic flared in my chest. Can’t get out can’t run not safe can’t breathe shot through my mind while flashes of swirling water and darkness with faint lines of light swam before my eyes. I was hot and my palms sweaty, and the dizziness probably wasn’t just because of the tumbling.

One moment I was falling, the other I smacked face first into a framework. The shot of pain got me out of my panic for a moment, but then I sank back into it. I clenched a bar of the framework in my hands, squeezing my eyes shut and trying to stay on my feet. I just had to breathe. I just had to breathe. If only it were so easy. My breaths were irregular and jerky, and it felt like something was trying to squeeze my throat shut.

I forced myself to breathe in deeply, hold it in for a few moments, and let it all go again. I did this a few times before the commotion began. I didn’t dare open my eyes in fear of getting sucked back into the panic. Growls and hoots and panicked jelps filled my ears. Just for a second, I opened my eyes. Goblins were swarming the Company, and in my current state I wasn’t able to help them.

I forced myself to calm down, but by the time I could open my eyes again, the Company was a sight in the distance. Only after he stood up, I could see that master Baggins had escaped the Goblins’ clutches. He pulled out his sword - the damned thing glowing like a jar of fireflies - and went after the Company. I concentrated my eyes on him. The weight on my chest was almost unbearable without constant confirmation that I was indeed trapped underground.

A Goblin jumped down in front of master Bilbo, and my instincts took over. I drew my knives and ran forward. The creature dealt blow after blow with its dagger. It seemed master Baggins had had some instruction with his sword, parrying every blow clumsily, being forced backwards. He even managed to disarm the creature. It didn’t help him much, though, as the Goblin jumped onto his back, causing him to lose balance and sending them both falling down a ravine. This all had happened in the span of a few seconds, not even giving me an opportunity to help.

I stood there like I had been nailed to the floor, my panic threatening to overtake me again. I had to concentrate on something else before that happened.

Bilbo could very well still be alive down there, I reasoned. His fall had been broken up into smaller ones, and from experience I knew that was the way to fall, if you had to. Still, he had been swallowed by the darkness and there was no telling how far he had fallen. I climbed down, feeling the strain I had put on my arms and legs earlier and having to stop to rest them a bit at every opportunity. At last I was at the ravine that they had fallen into. I looked down, but there was no telling how deep it was. The wall was sloped though, so I slid down.

When I was down, a creature was already musing over the Goblin, before dragging it away. The creature walked on four limbs, and had big, glassy eyes like a fish. It was capable of walking on two legs, using its arms to drag the Goblin. The Goblin promptly woke up and began trashing, but the creature made short work of it and knocked it out.

I hadn’t spotted master Baggins yet, but I hoped that he hadn’t fallen prey to the creature already. The creature seemed too excited about the Goblin to have found him, I told myself, not knowing if it was the truth. Another truth shot up, though. The creature was going to eat the Goblin. Why else would it be so excited? It didn’t want company, if it knocking out the Goblin was anything to go by.

As soon as the creature had retreated master Baggins came out of his hiding spot: a large collection of mushrooms. He picked up his sword, still glowing brightly. I wondered how the creature hadn’t seen it, but then again, neither did I.

There was no other way to go than the path the creature had taken. I went to lead on and to scout out the area. Maybe the creature would return, and after seeing what it did to the Goblin, I’d have to take it out discreetly. I kept a close eye on master Baggins, though. Killing the creature wouldn’t help if he was attacked from behind, unlikely as that seemed. Something reflected the light of his sword. He picked it up, studied it a bit and pocketed it.

The corridor became wider, before opening up into a lake. The air was ice-cold on my skin, although I don’t think it was because of the humidity. My hands began sweating again, and I began to feel faint. I sat down, keeping an eye out for the creature. It sat on a rock in the middle of the lake, as far as I could see. Some light filtered down onto the lake and reflected, just enough to see.

I heard it talking to itself, at least that was what I thought. I was surprised that it got an answer. Were there two of those things? I pulled out my knives, both to be ready for the things, but also to steady my nerves a bit. I didn’t like to admit it, but the knives did actually help. The creature began singing a macabre song, completely tone deaf and making the hairs on my neck stand up.

Master Baggins came out of the corridor, quickly hiding the sword behind his back, before hiding himself and taking it out from behind his back again. Its light blinked and died. The Goblin was dead.

The next moment, the creature climbed down from the rock, and I lost track of it. I stood up again. Coloured spots danced before my eyes. Before I knew it, the creature was on the rock above master Bilbo. It jumped down, looking absolutely delighted. “Bless us and splash us, precious.” It lilted, approaching master Baggins. “That’s a meaty mouthful.”

Master Baggins had the sense of raising his sword, its tip on the creature’s chest. “Back. Stay back.” He said, failing to look very intimidating. “I’m warning you, don’t come any closer.” It seemed to do the trick, as the creature backed off. At least he wasn’t going to be taken as easily as the Goblin.

“It’s got an Elfish blade, but it’s not an Elfs.” The creature pondered, crawling back towards the lake. “Not an Elfs, no. What is it, precious? What is it?” 

“My name is Bilbo Baggins.” He said hesitantly. 

“Bagginses? What is a Bagginses, precious?” It asked. As much as it had seemed ferocious when dealing with the Goblin, it only seemed curious now, looking at master Baggins appraisingly.

“I’m a Hobbit from the Shire.” master Baggins answered, and I couldn’t help but get a bad feeling about it. I didn’t trust the creature a bit, and I clenched my knives harder. I had had numerous chances already to kill it, but I held myself back. If master Baggins could deal with it himself, he would. If he couldn’t, I would step in.

“Oh. We like Goblinses, batses and fishes, but we hasn’t tried Hobbitses before.” It said, and I began to have a sneaking suspicion that it was indeed talking to itself - and answering. No wonder, I thought. It lived down here, where the only company was the things it ate. “Is it soft?” It sang tauntingly. “Is it juicy?”

“Now, now, keep your distance.” Master Baggins said, waving his sword. “I’ll use this, if I have to.” The creature screeched at him. “I don’t want any trouble, do you understand?” He tried to reason with it. “Just show me the way to get out of here and I’ll be on my way.”

“Why? Is it lost?” The creature asked, and for the first time it seemed like it wasn’t talking purely to itself.

“Yes. Yes, and I want to get unlost as soon as possible.” Master Bilbo said, lowering his sword a bit. “I’ve lost my Company, and I don’t know where I am, nor do I want to know, if only I can get away.”

“Ooh! We knows! We knows safe paths for Hobbitses, safe paths in the dark.” It said, immediately followed with “Shut up!” It confirmed my suspicion, the creature was talking with itself.

“I didn’t say anything.” Master Bilbo said more than a little confused.

“We wasn’t talking to you.” The creature answered in a gruff voice. It then continued in a lighter tone, “Oh, yes we was, precious. We was.” The two voices seemed to belong to two different people. One was merciless and cold, while the other (the lighter voice) could be reasoned with.

“Look, I don’t know what your game is, but I…” Master Baggins stammered, thoroughly confused.

“Games?” It sang out. “We loves games, doesn’t we precious? Does it like games? Praps it does, does it? Does it like to play?” The words threw master Bilbo for a loop.

“Maybe.” Was all he could answer.

The creature gestured enthusiastically before speaking. “What has roots that nobody sees, is taller than trees? Up, up, up it goes, and yet never grows?” It riddled.

“The mountain.” Master Baggins answered dryly.

“Yes,yes!” The creature laughed. “Oh, let’s have another one, eh? Yes! Ask us!” While the creature was speaking, I could see master Bilbo thinking. I could only hope that he came up with some clever plan before the low voice would rear its head again. That hope was (probably) in vain. “No! No more riddles!” It sneered. It came from its perch on a rock, talking to itself. “Finish it off! Finish it now! Gollum! Gollum!” It charged towards master Bilbo, and I got ready to strike. Master Baggins held his sword perpendicular to the ground, and probably wouldn’t attack the creature if he could help it.

“No! No, no, I want to play, I do.” He said, using his right hand to gesture to the creature while holding the sword in his left. He tried to look friendly, although a twinge of fear remained on his features. Not that I could blame him, the creature had just threatened to kill him! “I want to play, I can see you are very good at this.” He continued in a calming tone. “So, why don’t we have a game of riddles? Yes?” He crouched down to the creature’s level, cleverly making him seem less of a threat. I didn’t know if he had a plan or if he was improvising as he went along, but either way, he was good at it. “Ju-Just you and me.”

“Yes, yes, just us.” The creature whispered with the lighter voice, looking over its shoulder as if the other voice was a separate entity that he didn’t want listening in.

“Yes, yes.” The tone in master Baggins’s voice became somewhat more optimistic. “And if I win, you show me the way out, yes?” I was actually impressed. Master Baggins might not be able to hold his own in a sword fight - his stance was terrible and he waved his sword around like a flyswatter - he had a way with words. A gentle-Hobbit through and through, but able to use it when thinking on his feet. He’d probably be good with faunts too. I thought, and I didn’t really know where that came from. True, the creature had a fauntlike curiosity, but that was as far as the comparison went.

“Yes, yes!” The creature agreed.

“And what if it loses? What then?” The growling voice demanded.

“Well, if it loses, precious, we eats it.” It answered. “If Baggins loses, we eats it whole.” It beamed, as if it was just asking for sweets.

Master Bilbo paused before he accepted. The only other alternative was a certainty of being eaten, but still not a nice choice to make. “Fair enough.” He said, putting his sword into its scabbard.

And so the game began, with enormous stakes on both sides. Some riddles I knew right away, some required some thought and some I couldn’t make sense of. It was good that I wasn’t the one riddling, I was rubbish at them.

The creature soon grew impatient, rushing master Baggins for the answers. When he seemed to be able to answer every riddle it threw at him, it decided that it had had enough of the game. “Last question.” It growled. “Last chance. Ask us. Ask us!” It demanded.

Master Baggins seemed stumped for a riddle. I would’ve been too, for this riddle would decide the outcome of the game, and with that if he would live. Little did he know that I was fully planning on killing the thing if it actually attacked him. Rules be damned, I wouldn’t sit idly by and see master Bilbo get killed.

“What is in my pocket.” He mused to himself. The creature took it as its riddle.

“That’s not fair!” It whined. “It’s not fair, it’s against the rules!” It was, technically, but then again, it had said question, and not riddle. Master Baggins held the fact against him.

The creature asked for and was granted three guesses. It didn’t waste time and immediately guessed, “Handses!” but master Bilbo had taken his hands out of his pockets.

“Wrong, guess again.” He said, showing his hands, now with the sword back in it. I hadn’t noticed him drawing it again.

The creature began to rattle, listing things that it probably carried in its pockets and that were highly improbable in master Baggins’.

“Knife!” It called out, only to be shut up by the other voice.

“Wrong again. Last guess.”

“String!” It called. “Or nothing.”

“Two guesses at once.” Master Baggins smirked. “Wrong both times.”

The creature just fell over and began sobbing. When master Baggins asked to be shown the way out, as it had promised, it tried to come back on its words. It seemed like it wanted to take something out of its pocket, but scrambled to find it, screaming at itself all the while.

Master Baggins slowly backed away from the creature, towards a corridor that wasn’t the one we had entered by. I was between him and the creature, ready to catch it on my knives. 

The creature suddenly exploded, accusing master Baggins of thievery and throwing a rock at him. I instinctively ducked, and master Baggins reflected it with his sword, turned around and ran into the corridor.

The corridor had many connected to it, all dead ends. Except for one, that had a crack in the back. Master Baggins tried to go through, but became stuck. The creature found us. “It’s ours! It’s ours!” It screamed. Without thinking, I pushed master Baggins in a desperate attempt to save him. It worked, master Baggins fell through and the buttons of his waistcoat flying through the air.

The creature paused, and it was just the time I needed to get through the crack myself. Being gaunt now worked in my favour, letting me slip through the crack without the difficulties a healthy Hobbit would have. 

On the other side I saw a very confused master Baggins. Looking directly at me, even when I moved away from the crack. Not two moments later the creature jumped through it, scanning the space and moving on. How did it miss master Baggins? He looked right at him!

It took a moment before it all clicked. He had somehow Crossed into the Shadows. How and why and if it was permanent could wait. The creature had taken off into the tunnels and it would probably lead us right out of this labyrinth. I sheathed a knife and extended a hand to him, which he reluctantly took. I pulled him back onto his feet and made to follow the creature.

“Now wait,” He hissed, wagging his finger, “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

I sighed. I really didn’t know how to deal with this mess, and I wanted time to think it through. “That isn’t important right now. What is important is getting out of here.” I said, before turning my back to him and following the sound of the creature. Which wasn’t hard, as the creature kept screaming. It really was upset, and I might’ve felt sorry for it if it hadn’t tried to kill and eat master Baggins.

The creature led us to a point where the corridor joined a hallway that was lit. The creature looked in both directions, before it hopped back into the corridor, hiding behind a rock. The sound of heavy footfalls filled the corridor. A familiar voice called, “Quick! Quick!” and the Company came running by. As soon as the last Dwarf had passed, I ran into the hall. The creature blocked master Baggins before he could do the same.

He raised his sword and put it next to the creature’s neck, as if gauging where to strike. He pulled it behind it back to make a fell swoop when the sword came down, but he didn’t strike. The creature didn’t seem so dangerous anymore now. I stood there, itching to get out, I could see the exit and the weight on my chest seemed to have doubled at the sight of it. But I didn’t trust the creature, I didn’t want master Baggins alone with it. I didn’t speak, though. It was master Baggins’ choice if he wanted to kill the thing or not, and his alone.

He lowered his sword and took a few steps back, took a run up and jumped over the creature, accidentally hitting it in the face with his foot. We ran to the exit, leaving it grumbling and screaming in the dark.

I felt the weight lifting as soon as we were out of the dark, and it felt as if I could float away without it keeping me on the ground. Not that I really minded. I sheathed my other knife while we ran, aiming to catch up with the Company. We would see whether or not master Baggins’ Crossing was permanent when we got there.


	9. Baptism By Fire

I had to rein in myself while running so master Baggins could keep up with me. I wanted to run faster, get as far away from the dark tunnels as was possible.

We caught up with the Company when they stopped. The two princes looked around nervously, as if fully expecting an attack at any moment.

“Where’s our Hobbit?” Gandalf yelled angrily.

Multiple voices went up. “Curse the halfling! Now he’s lost?”

“I thought he was with Dori!” 

“Don’t blame me!” Dori defended himself.

“But where did you last see him?” The Wizard asked the Dwarf.

“I think I saw him slipping away when they first caught us!” Nori supplied.

“What happened in there? Tell me!” Gandalf demanded. I realised that Master Bilbo hadn’t yet joined his Company. I gave him a questioning look, but he didn’t even look at me.

“Oh, I’ll tell you what happened!” King Thorin fumed. “Master Baggins saw his chance and he took it.” His voice was full of disgust. “He has thought of nothing but his soft bed and warm hearth since first he stepped out his door. We will not be seeing our Hobbit again.”

Master Baggins leaned against a tree with a pained look on his face.

“He is long gone.”

I swore I saw something break inside master Bilbo. He had a pensive look on his face for a moment, before straightening his back and looking me straight in the eyes. “You still owe me an introduction.” He whispered loudly. “And you better have a good explanation as to why you are here.” He then faced the Company, and did something with his hands. His silhouette suddenly became a little more blurred, and I somehow knew he was back in the Light. As he should be. “No, he isn’t.” He said resolutely. 

I walked over to Hannar, wondering how he hadn’t seen me standing there. My mind was whirring as to how to explain that we could no longer go unnoticed. I didn’t know, and I decided to keep that information from him for a bit, until I understood it a bit better myself.

“Hey, you okay?” I asked when I saw his face. It was ashen, and his eyes didn’t quite look right. I racked my brain, was there something that Hannar had told me he feared that he could’ve encountered down there? I couldn’t think of anything.

He looked at me, swallowed, and nodded. “It was a bit closer than I’m comfortable with.” He admitted. “There were just so many of them. I haven’t seen a force like that since the battle.” So that was it, I thought. Hannar had told me very little of the Battle of Azanulbizar, and that alone was proof to me that it still haunted him. One thing he had said in particular had struck me. He had joked about how he, by all rights, should’ve been dead by the end of it. He had already been a Guardian, and he had spectacularly failed at his job, from his point of view. Guardians perished in battle, especially when the losses of the people they protect were great. He knew this, and he felt like a failure because he hadn’t.

I couldn’t say anything to that. It was something that I had no experience with. Hobbits very seldomly went into battle, and most of them had very little casualties. It was the reason why I had survived for so long. Did I feel guilty because some died and I didn’t? Sometimes I did, but I looked at it from another angle: as long as I didn’t die, no other Hobbit would suffer my fate.

I listened to master Baggins’ words instead. It was heartfelt, but I doubted that they were the whole truth. The pained look he had had pointed to something more driving him to complete this adventure. But that was none of my business, and I could be reading the whole situation wrong.

The silence following those words was rudely broken by howls. The Wizard uttered a single, very clear order, “Run!”

“You go up front, and call for me when there’s trouble.” I said to Hannar, who immediately took off. I could only hope that there was nothing coming for us from up front. Hannar didn’t seem fit for fighting right now.

I waited until the last Dwarf had passed me before running myself. More howls and barks filled the air, and I knew we couldn’t outrun them. We could only find a better place to defend ourselves. I hoped that this wasn’t the same pack that had chased us down before we got to Rivendell. It would be too big to take on.

I wanted to use my sling to thin them out, but I remembered that it hadn’t had much effect on the wargs last time. I also couldn’t take them out with my knives, I’d probably end up underneath one again.

Wargs began passing me, one jumping off an edge and promptly turned around to face someone. I caught up and saw who; master Baggins. Before I could do anything, it had already impaled its head on his sword, forcing master Bilbo against a tree. His eyes were big in disbelief, and he froze there.

The rest of the Company didn’t have as much problems with killing the wargs. Left and right I saw Dwarrow defending themselves with brutal efficiency. 

It was almost as if the Wizard was leading the Company now, ordering to climb the trees. Master Baggins moved to do so, but found his blade burrowed too deep into the warg’s skull. He clumsily tried to pull it free, and when he finally did, only he and I were still on the ground. The Dwarrow made unexpectedly good climbers, it seemed.

Master Baggins pulled himself into a tree, and I followed his example. The wargs began jumping up the trees, trying to get at the members of the Company. They stopped immediately when an intimidating figure on a white warg joined them.

The pale Orc began to speak in a tongue that I had never heard before, but there was an evil to his words. His last words seemed to be a command, and the attack began again. 

The pines, strong and tall as they were, slowly began to slant. Our weight in the top of the trees pulled them down faster. Between jumps to other trees I saw that the Orc had been joined by a gang of warg-riders. The trees fell into each other, and pushed each other down, until one single tree remained, housing the entirety of the Company, the Wizard, Hannar and I.

I hugged my branch tightly and cursed. Why hadn’t the bloody Wizard done a thing to help us? Even if it would be purely for self-preservation, it would be of great value to us now.

I hadn’t finished my thought or a flaming pinecone flew through the sky. It set the fallen needles on fire and scared off the wargs, for now. More followed, and I joined in, making the pinecones smoulder with a whispered few words and blowing on them until they caught flame.

There were only so many pinecones in a tree, and while we drove off the wargs for now, we ran out. I sang words that made the flames grow, but soon stopped when I realised that we would be roasted alive if I didn’t.

Some victorious cries filled the air, when the tree began to lean over. The sound of victory was soon replaced with panic. The tree became horizontal, and my grip tightened. I was one of the lucky ones; I had been at the front of the tree, if I loosened my grip I would have the trunk to stop me from falling.

The King rose, walking down the tree trunk to face the Orc. No matter how noble his intentions were, it wouldn’t help any of us. The king would fall to the Orc, who had the high ground and a mount. The king ran towards the Orc, poising his blade behind his head. The fight, if you could call it that, was over in two blows. The King was lying motionless on the ground.

I wanted to go out in a blaze of glory, and if this was the end, why not do so. I too began walking down the trunk, when I saw master Baggins struggling to get up. He already knows I am here. I thought, and helped him up. What did it matter? I couldn’t hide from him, anyway.

He cautiously walked down the trunk, while the warg played with the king. The Dwarrow called for him, but couldn’t get up themselves. The pale Orc gave an order in that malicious tongue he had used earlier, and a warg-rider dismounted, raising its blade over the King. Master Bilbo ran towards the Orc and drew his sword, before positively launching himself into it, stabbing at it until it no longer moved. He then put himself between King Thorin and the pale Orc, still mounted on that beast of his.

Master Baggins swung his sword around wildly, trying to look dangerous. It would’ve worked better if he’d just killed the Orc and then calmly guarded the King. I joined master Baggins. Three warg-riders advanced on us, and on the last possible moment, a battle-cry surprised me and the warg-riders. The Dwarrow had found a way up.

Master Bilbo cried his own battle-cry and dived into the fight, but before long he was cornered. In the distance, I heard an eagle, and before I could even move to help master Baggins, there were enormous Eagles helping us. They distracted everyone, and I began my dance of death.

An ancient thing flared, making me very visible to both the Company and the Orcs, but they were all preoccupied.

 _One, two three._ Three steps forward, drawing my knives.

 _One, two, three._ Another step, a jump and a slash with my knife. I had its attention.

The Orc steered the muzzle of its warg toward me, the warg snapping its jaws at me.

 _One, two, three._ A step aside, forward and a slash at its riders leg. Black blood spilled out.

Music droned in my head, keeping me in moving.

 _One, two, three._ Catch the Orc’s blade, slide it to the side, stab at the warg’s eye. It howled.

Another Orc had noticed me. I ducked beneath its blow, turned, and cut into the tendons of its warg.

The two warg-riders now began to circle me, one warg visibly limping.

I made sure I never had my back to one of them for more than a moment. I wished Hannar had my back, but I couldn’t find him in my hurry.

 _One, two, three._ A step, a jump and a slash, both my knives moving independently. It couldn’t parry both. I went for the neck and the abdomen, it defended its neck, leaving the abdomen wide open. It’s leather armour sliced open, a slight gash forming beneath.

Before I was back on the ground, the warg had shut its jaws around my leg. It pulled me away from its rider and shook me like a ragdoll. I cried out in pain. Tears formed in my eyes.

I struck out to the warg. By chance, I hit it, and it let me go, flinging me away. For a moment I lay there, before standing up again. And falling over once more. The pain in my leg was unbearable.

I rolled out of the way when the warg came for a second go at me. I scrambled backwards as fast as my leg permitted, but the warg slowly advanced, it and its rider taking pleasure in my suffering.

I sheathed one knife in favour for a spell. As I sang words of destruction on the melody of the music that still haunted me in my head, a ball of fire formed in my hand. When it was big enough, I threw it at the warg’s eyes. It was enough to send it backwards. I prepared another ball and threw it at its rider.

Even known and mastered spells took their toll; the bigger the change you made to the world, the more exhausting it was. Making sparks was child’s play, the change was barely noticeable, even if its effects were. Making fire out of nothing was exhausting. If I wanted to keep fighting, two fireballs was stretching my stamina.

The warg didn’t return, its rider dead on the ground, a seared stump where a head should be.

I picked myself up once again, hopping on one foot to the edge of the cliff. Every impact with the ground sent a wave of pain through me. One lonely Eagle had remained, circling the sky. With my last strength I threw myself from the cliff, falling for what seemed an hour, but most likely were seconds.

Then, I hit something. The Eagle had caught me. It hurried to catch up with its flock.

I had heard about these Eagles, but who hadn’t? The Eagles of Manwë, messengers and Guardians of the skies. Although no faunt that heard those stories thought of them as Guardians with a capital G. Why should they?

As a Guardian I had heard a little more about them, just that they as servants of Manwë could see us and help us. But I had never realised how gigantically big they really were.

With the thrill of the fight wearing of, my leg began to burn even more than it had. I cautiously turned so I could see how bad it was. I almost immediately became queasy, and I had to look away. It was a mess of blood and bone, shreds of skin barely hanging on. To slow the bleeding I took my sling and wound it tightly around my leg, above the wound, and laid a strong knot in it. It would stop me from bleeding out, for now.

In the distance, I could see the sun rising. Had an entire night passed already? When we came out of the caves, it was evening. Now, the dawn promised a new day.

To push the pain to the back of my mind, I tried to admire the scenery and marvel at the fact that I was actually flying. None of it helped. I even tried to fall asleep, but that proved to be difficult, although I had difficulty keeping my eyes open. Maybe for the better. I wouldn’t want to fall off the Eagle. I didn’t trust myself not to fall off if I didn’t hold on, the world shook a bit around me.

Not much later the Eagles began dropping the Company off on a large platform on top of a monolith. As I was the last to be picked up, I was the last to be dropped off. I clumsily rolled off the Eagle.

The Dwarrow had gathered around their king and master Baggins. A very worried Hannar came towards me. When he saw that I was still was mostly in one piece, his expression changed.

“What did you think you were doing?” He chided. “Helping up the burglar? Now he knows there’s something watching over him! Do you know…”

I interrupted him. “He already did.” I prepared myself for a lecture. I didn’t know anything more than I had after we had met outside the caves, but I had to tell him.

“He did? _He did?!_ ” He ranted. “Rosalyn, do you realise what that means? Not just for you, but all Guardians?” He got angrier and angrier. “How can we protect our people if they know we do? How will we stop the insane quests they’ll start, thinking we will protect them from any harm?” He was positively fuming, and my lack of response wasn’t helping.

“In my defence,” I began before Hannar shut me up.

“No, you don’t get to defend yourself!” He raged, stomping around. “Why can’t you just follow the rules?! They’re there for a reason!” I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes. “Is it too much for your little halfling brain…”

“That’s enough.” I said, my tone as cold as ice and as sharp as my knives. “Shut up and listen.” I sat up straighter, trying to ignore my leg. “First off, no one will call me a halfling. I’m not half of anything and twice as dangerous as most.” I gave him one of my piercing glares, and it seemed like he had lost his tongue. “Secondly, I didn’t make myself known by choice. Somehow, master Baggins Crossed himself.” I left those words to sink in.

The fight had drained out of Hannar now. “How did he even do that?” he asked, his voice soft and a bit remorseful. Or did I imagine that?

“If I knew I’d tell you.” I answered. My head had started throbbing and I was sweating for no real reason. In fact, I was cold. Hannar seemed to have calmed down and turned his attention to my bite wound. He was a bit rougher than necessary, still a bit mad, I suppose.

A quick scan told me that Hannar and I were the only ones to still have their packs. I had put mine back on when master Baggins was leaving, and I don’t think I saw Hannar take his off.

“I’ll have to heal this. I don’t think stitches would last long on the road,” He murmured to himself. “And this is too far gone.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Can you move your toes for me?” he asked. I tried, but found I couldn’t.

I swallowed before I answered. “No, I can’t.”

“‘s what I thought…” He continued murmuring. I couldn’t understand the next few words he said. He took off his pack and took out his blanket. He unrolled it and then folded it a few times over, forming a thick wad of fabric. “Put this in your mouth.” He said, handing it to me. “Lay down.This is going to hurt.” He waited for a moment before adding, “A lot.” as if it was an afterthought.

I did as he said. He was a healer after all, he had to know what he was doing. Not only by profession before he became a Guardian, he also knew the spells to heal someone. He had tried to teach me, but that had turned out disastrous. Not as disastrous as when I tried to teach him how to summon fire, but still. Our talents were like water and fire; eternal opposites.

He poured out most of his waterskin over the wound and his hands. He then went to sit on my leg, one of his knees at either side of it. One of his feet was awkwardly laying on my stomach. I couldn’t see what he was doing.

I was a little confused. Why did he sit on my leg? Before I could think of a reason, he began murmuring in the strange language that I had heard the other Dwarrow use. A moment later, the pain began. I bit down hard on the fabric between my teeth instinctively. My nails dug down into my palms and I arched my back. My free leg trembled and kicked at the air. I tried to control that, but it seemed nearly impossible. Tears welled up and I screamed into the fabric.

It seemed to go on forever, as these things tend to do. As suddenly as it had started, the pain subsided. I relaxed, my muscles no longer taut. I took a few deep breaths. My headache had subsided, and the world was no longer moving violently around me.

Hannar stood up. I sat up to look at my leg. I very nasty ring of scarring went around my shin, but it could’ve been worse. Scars fade, but a missing leg wasn’t as easily solved. Blood had seeped into the hair of my feet. The usually copper hair was now drenched and turning brown. I tried to move my toes, and while I felt some pulling in my calf, it worked. The warg had bitten below the windings of my breeches, so they were still good, even if they were covered in a bit of blood.

Hannar stood there a bit, his hair drenched with sweat and my sling in his hands. “You know, this song and dance is beginning to grow old.” He said, handing me my sling.

“I agree.” I said, taking the sling and standing up. “And again, I owe you. Let’s not make it a third time, alright?”

“You better.” He answered. “Anyway, how did _he_ ,” Hannar nodded at master Bilbo. “Cross? What happened?”

The Company had started moving down the monolith. Hannar and I joined them, the both of us telling the other what had happened in the tunnels. 

Hannars story seemed to lack details, but I didn’t press it. The long and short of it was that the Dwarrow were captured by the Goblins, taken to their king and quickly condemned to be mauled by said Goblins when they found out King Thorin was carrying a sword that had participated in the Goblin Wars. In the nick of time the Wizard had come to save them. They then had to fight their way out.

My own story was a bit more elaborate. What are Hobbits if not good storytellers? Aside from farmers and cooks, of course. We had reached the foot of the monolith when I was done telling the story and answering Hannars questions, most of them relating to master Baggins’s Crossing.

When we came to some grassland at a river, the king ordered that we would camp there. It was midday by now, and we hadn’t had much rest since the thunderbattle. We could all use the rest very much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song I imagine Rosa fighting to is the 'Danse Macabre' by Camille Saint-Saëns. I think it fits her. It sounds kind of slow, but it's actually quite fast. Look it up, it's one of my all time favourite classical pieces.
> 
> Also, if any of you wonder about the 'windings of my breeches', they were inspired by the windings British soldiers wore in World War 1. They're called 'putees' and are meant for support and protection, but Rosalyn mostly uses them to make sure her breeches fit tightly around her leg. Traditional putees covered the leg from the ankle to the knee, but as Rosalyn wears breeches that end just under her knee, hers stop mid-calf.
> 
> Anyways, how are you liking everything so far? Leave a comment (if you want to), I'm curious.


	10. I.O.U An Introdiction

However much I wanted to just plop down and take a nap, I knew I couldn’t just yet. I owed master Baggins an explanation, and he would come and get it, I was certain. I took a change of clothes out of my pack and hid it beneath a shrub before heading to the river. Maybe the cold water would keep my tiredness at bay.

Most Dwarrow had shed all layers of clothing and were playing around in the water. Master Baggins, like any respectable Hobbit, had sought out some privacy. While I respected that, I stayed near and kept an ear open while I washed myself and my clothes. My hair was long and full of tangles, and I decided to cut it. It would only get in my way, and it was getting too hot for long hair anyway. A quick cut later, copper curls went drifting down the river.

Refreshed, I waded out of the river to dress myself. The water hadn’t washed away my exhaustion all together, but it was easier to ignore now.

Fully dressed I laid down for a bit, looking up at the cloudless sky. It remembered me of a song. I didn’t remember where I had heard it, or even when. It could’ve been a nursery rhyme or just a happy song, I didn’t know. What I did remember was the melody and some of the words. The stress from the last two days - I guessed, I didn’t know how long we had been in the caves - had left me, and I couldn’t help but to sing. It was out of tune and I hummed the words that I missed. I really didn’t care.

_Sun is shining in the sky,_  
_There ain’t a cloud in sight,_  
_It’s stopped raining,_  
_Everybody’s hmm hm hmm-hmm,_  
_And don’t you know, it’s a beautiful new day!_

_Running down the avenue,_  
_see how the sun shines brightly,_  
_In the hm-hm,_  
_in the streets hm hm hm hm-hmm,_  
_Mister Blue Sky is living here today!_

It went on for a bit, but more and more holes appeared in my knowledge of the song, and soon I was just humming the same melody over and over. My eyes began to droop shut and I almost fell asleep, when someone stepped on my leg - the one that almost got bitten off. It didn’t hurt anymore, but it was sensitive.

I yelped indignantly, my eyes flying wide open. Standing next to me was a very confused master Baggins. He looked around but didn’t seem to find me. Had he heard me? He shouldn’t be able to, he wasn’t in the Shadows. But then again, I had never encountered a situation like this. He was able to Cross himself back and forth between the Light and the Shadows.

Master Bilbo searched around in his pocket for a bit before taking something out (a golden ring) and putting it on. He became a bit sharper, and looked at me. “Ah, uhm, there you are.” He said, looking down at me. 

Still lying down, I answered him. “Here I am.” I sat up. “I suppose you’ll have that introduction now?” He nodded. I stood up, dusted off my coat and bowed slightly. “Rosalyn Fernsby, at your service.”

Taken aback, it took a moment before master Baggins replied. “Uhm, Bilbo Baggins, at yours?” He cleared his throat. “I don’t think I’ve heard that name before.” He added, a quizzical look on his face. “Where are you from?”

“Bree, but I’ve lived quite a while in the Shire by now.” I answered. So far, so good. He wasn’t screaming bloody murder just yet. He was taking it better than I could’ve hoped. He could have just written me off as some ghost haunting the ring, but he hadn’t. That was a definite plus.

“Well, sorry to ask, but what is a young lady like you doing so far from home?” Master Baggins asked, before frowning and adding “And why can I only see you when I have this thing on?”. His voice became a bit more panicked as he spoke. 

Before he could begin of accusing me of being any sort of supernatural creature, I interrupted him. “That’s a really long story. Come, sit down.” I said, doing so myself and getting comfortable. Master Bilbo followed my lead, although hesitantly.

Where to start? I took a moment to think before deciding I would tell him what every Guardian was told when they were freshly Crossed. It was the closest thing to what he had done. My stomach seemed to tie a knot in itself from the nerves. This was information that had been the secret of generations of Guardians. And I was about to share it.

Master Baggins gave me an impatient look, and I decided to just start. “The First Age was filled with war and bloodshed, and the Valar saw that the free people needed guidance to defeat Melkor. Oromë and Tulkas, with the blessing of the rest of the Valar, chose one of each people, to protect and guide them.” I breathed deeply, while master Bilbo seemed largely unimpressed. 

“They Crossed the chosen into the Shadows. That’s why you couldn’t see me before. We are cast from the Light of the world. The reasoning was, I believe, that a true protector of the people can’t be attached to just their family. They have to be there for their entire people, so their familial ties are severed. We are also Crossed to ensure we can’t be corrupted by the Dark. Shadows can only exist because of light. If we’d surrender to the Dark, we’d just… fade.” I paused. I had never heard of it actually happening, not during my - not inconsiderably long - lifetime. But that the knowledge existed, meant that it had happened sometime in the past. But now was hardly the time to think on that. 

“I don’t know why, but even with Melkor and Sauron defeated, every time a Guardian dies, a new one will take their place. There are even more Guardians than in the beginning, because most people are so spread out.”

“An unforeseen consequence of Crossing is that we just stop ageing. Physically, at least.” I sighed, thinking of what to say next. “Crossing is a terrible business, usually, so I don’t see how you can do it so casually.”

I had ran out of words. By now I would’ve been harassed with questions if I’d been speaking to a Guardian. And I hadn’t even touched on magic yet. But did I need to? Master Baggins wouldn’t be able to use it, would he? I just wished he’d ask a question, react, anything. He had a pensive look to him, like he was processing my words.

Master Baggins seemed to pick up on it when I remained silent. “Right, uhm, but why are you here?” He asked. “It’s not like I’m that important.”

“Call it a gut feeling,” I said, stifling a yawn. “But I think this quest will have a big impact.”

The silence stretched between us. Master Baggins looked like he wanted to ask me something, but then decided against it. He stood up, excused himself, and walked off.

I sat there, thinking. Had I made a mistake in sharing this information? Master Baggins could just tell the Company what he’s just learned. I doubted that they would believe him, but still. The again, he hadn’t told them about the ring either. As long as he kept that secret, he couldn’t tell them about Guardians without coming over as a complete lunatic.

Another yawn rose in my chest. Time to seek out my bedroll, I decided. Whatever would happen could be dealt with after a well-deserved nap. I strolled over to where I’d hid my pack, shoving the mostly dried clothes inside. I rolled out my bedroll and took a honeycake - something I had nicked in Rivendell and was far more enjoyable than the chewing-exercise called cram - and made short work of it.

I realised that I had to do one more thing before I passed out. Hannar would be less than amused if he had to go searching for me. Luckily for me, I didn’t have to look for him too long. I pointed out where I’d set up camp, and told him he should wake me if he got too tired, so I could take over his watch.

Finally, I could lay down. It was no wonder that I was fast asleep in an instant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Rosa sings is 'Mr. Blue Sky' by the Electric Lights Orchestra. DISCLAIMER: I do not own this piece of music, nor do I own The Hobbit.


	11. A Safe Haven (For Now)

A few moments after I woke up, I knew something was wrong. It took me another good few moments to think what was wrong. _I hadn’t been woken by Hannar._ The dawn had woken me. A slight panic set my heart racing. Had I slept through a fight? Was Hannar okay? A quick scan of the camp revealed nothing of the sort. My heart slowed down when I saw Hannars slumped figure. He had fallen asleep. I left him to it. We had a long day ahead of us.

I packed up my bedroll. The honeycakes I left for another time. My rations were growing sparse, and there was no telling how long I’d have to live on them. Hadn’t I seen berries of some kind growing around here?

A short search later, I was proven right. Redcurrants were hanging from their bushes, big and ripe. The seeds would be stuck in my teeth for the rest of the day, but I wouldn’t complain. Still, I wished I had pockets to fill with them. They weren’t very filling, but they would keep me going for another while.

Soft footsteps approached. Master Bilbo had gotten the same idea as I had, apparently. I felt a twinge of guilt when I realised it was out of necessity. None of the Company had their packs anymore. Still I was curious. Had he heard me yesterday? Or had that been the tiredness imagining that?

“Good morning.” I greeted. I wouldn’t make any sense if he _could_ hear me, but then again, it didn’t make any sense that he could Cross at will either.

Master Baggins looked around, a bit confused. “Good morning.” He replied, beginning to pick redcurrants himself,occasionally popping one in his mouth while the rest disappeared into his pockets. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Dangerous business.” I commented without thinking. I froze. If master Baggins would see me for the rest of the journey, I’d rather not antagonise him. It was refreshing to have someone else to talk to for once.

Master Baggins puffed before continuing. “I don’t think you’re lying. At least about the whole…” He swallowed, “Guardian thing. It’s too convoluted to just have made up. And I’ve seen another Dwarf. I suppose he’s the Company’s Guardian?”

“Technically he’s the Guardian of the Blue Mountains, but yes. His name’s Hannar.” I said, pausing from picking redcurrants, looking at master Baggins. “I probably should introduce you. If you want, of course.” I hesitated before adding, “You’ll probably get yelled at at first, though. Just a fair warning. We had a bit of a falling out when he found out you could see me.” 

Master Baggins hummed as a response. “What I don’t believe is your name. I’ve never heard of a family Fernsby.” He paused, popping another redcurrant in his mouth. “If you wanted to keep your name to yourself, then that’s your business, but at least don’t insult me with such a barefaced lie.”

Sometimes I felt like I didn’t belong anymore, as a Hobbit. This was one of those times. I had completely forgotten how important names were, especially last names. You could assume much from just a name. I had even unthinkingly done so myself at the start of this adventure. 

Even when I wasn’t supposed to, I had kept up with family affairs. Who was marrying who, who had children, and who died. Long ago, I noticed that the name Fernsby wasn’t being passed on much anymore. Very little boys were born, while daughters made up the difference. It made keeping track incredibly difficult, and eventually I just gave up. Could it be that the name had gone extinct, save for me? Not for the first time I felt incredibly alone. Didn’t I have any family left?

Tears brimmed my eyes, but I refused to cry. “I’m sorry for any perceived insult,” I said, my throat constricting. I took a deep breath before continuing to steady my voice. “But I swear on my soil and my seeds,” _even though I didn’t have either,_ “that my name is Rosalyn Fernsby. And a bloody good name it is, thank you very much.” My throat had constricted again, my voice high and feeble. I knew it was silly to hold on to a name like that. But what else had I left for me? 

Master Baggins must’ve noticed the change in my voice, but didn’t say anything about it. We continued to pick berries in silence, master Baggins stuffing more in his pockets than I had believed possible. 

I picked another big handful and walked over to Hannar. He was still asleep, as were most of the other Dwarrow. The only exception was Ori, keeping watch. He looked about ready to fall asleep. I wouldn’t stop him. Should anything happen, I would wake him. But until then, what was the harm in a little more rest?

Hannar shot up when I woke him, drawing his axe, ready to strike. A few bewildered moments later he put the axe down. I wondered if I should scold him for not waking me, but decided against it. It wasn’t his fault, not completely.

“Good morning.” I said, offering the redcurrants. “Want some breakfast?”

Hannar wasn’t a morning person. I knew this, and didn’t expect more than a grunt as a reply. And that was what I got, with a hand groggily grabbing the berries, crushing some of them.

The silence between us was far more comfortable than the silence that had hung between me and master Baggins. As much as I would like another conversation partner, I knew it was stupid for me to become invested in master Bilbo. He could never understand, not really, what it meant to be a Guardian. But aside from that, as there were many more topics to talk about, was that he wasn’t Crossed, and would age. And die. Everyone did, at some point, but if I survived this quest, I’d quite probably outlive him. And I didn’t want to outlive another one.

I had lost many people. At first, my parents. Then, slowly, my friends and siblings began to go. After that, Guardians that had visited the Shire often enough to be called acquaintances. I feared that one more would break me. Honestly, it was the driving factor for me to do the stupidly dangerous things I had done on this journey. I didn’t want to see Hannar dead before me. I didn’t even know if I could leave him behind when we reached the mountain.

It had been on my mind often, what would happen then. The chance of any of the Dwarrow returning was minimal. I doubted Hannar would stay Guardian of the Blue Mountains. He’d probably stay at the Lonely Mountain. It had been his home once, after all. Who said it couldn’t be again?

In the background, I could hear the Company getting up. Without their packs, there was nothing to pack up, so we were ready to go in mere moments.

I had no idea where we’d be going now. Would we try to reach a town to resupply? Or would we trek on, scavenging what we could along the road? 

Instead of heading out, though, the King first commanded the Company to find something to eat. The Dwarrow had varying degrees of success, while master Bilbo found plenty, in the form of more berries and even chicken mushrooms. When everyone had eaten and stuffed their pockets, the Wizard recommended that master Bilbo first scout out the area, before they ran right into the arms of the orc pack that he had no doubt was still chasing us. The Company would follow, unless master Baggins gave a signal - one that was more clearly defined than the one the princes had used when the Trolls had stolen the ponies. They would rush to come help him, they promised.

I followed master Baggins quietly. You never knew what trouble a scout could run into. The Wizard’s suspicions were proved right. The pack had to have ridden all day and all night to catch up with us, but they had.

A growl caught my attention. Standing uncomfortably close to us was an absolute behemoth of a bear. Black and rugged, I had no doubt it would tear us into tiny shreds if we were to anger it. It was the first time in a long time I was afraid of a bear. There were bears in the Shire, but they were smaller, docile creatures. If you let them be and stayed away from their young, they wouldn’t even acknowledge you. This one was nothing like them.

“Master Baggins,” I whispered, trying to not alert the beast of our presence, “I think it would be wise to go back to the Company now.” Master Baggins’s ears perked up when he heard my voice. He nodded. We retreated slowly from the bear, until we were certainly far enough from it. We ran the rest of the way.

As soon as we reached the Company, king Thorin asked how far off our pursuers were. “Too close,” He answered them. “Only a couple of leagues. But that is not the worst of it.” Bilbo panthed. Before he could continue though, he was interrupted. “Have the wargs picked up our scent?” Dwalin asked. “Not yet, but they will do. We have another problem.” Bilbo said, again trying to say that there was more to worry about. 

Gandalf interrupted this time. “Did they see you?” he asked, and when Bilbo didn’t immediately answer, he answered his own question. “They saw you.” 

“No, that’s not it.” Bilbo reassured him. 

“What did I tell you? Quiet as a mouse.” Gandalf began, discrediting his own conclusion, “Excellent burglar material.”

The Dwarves began clamouring and Bilbo got fed up with it. “Will you listen?” he said expheratiadedly, “Will you just… listen?” The dwarves quieted down at Bilbo’s tone. “I’m trying to tell you there’s something else out there.” He continued.

“What form did it take? Like a bear?” The Wizard guessed. Did he know the creature? Master Baggins confirmed that it was a bear, but much bigger. Gandalf’s face grew even more serious.

The Dwarrow began to clamor as to what to do. It did nothing to calm my nerves. Right now, our priority should’ve been to keep moving, standing here would surely get us killed. I looked at Hannar, but his face was unreadable. 

The Wizard knew of a house where we could take refuge. When asked if they were friend or foe, the answer was less than preferrable. “He will help us, or he will kill us.” We would be taking a chance, but a chance is better than a certainty of death.

The King realised this too. “What choice do we have?” Was his rhetorical remark. As if on cue, the beast roared.

“None.” Gandalf answered.

We took off, the Wizard leading the way. Hannar took to the front of the Company, while I closed, making sure no one would be left behind. It was when I saw Gloin picking up Dori, who had tripped, that I realised that it was redundant. The Dwarrow were a tight-knit group. They would never leave one of their own behind. 

As for Bilbo, I think he was getting more and more accepted into the group. He had proved his loyalty to them the night we were picked up by the Eagles by defending Thorin when no one else could. And to Dwarrow, loyalty was everything.

We barely ever stopped, just enough to catch our breath. I had lost track of how long we had been running, but I didn’t really care. The Orc pack was slowly gaining on us, and I could only hope we were close to the house of this Someone. The beast kept roaring, reminding us that it, too, was gaining on us.

We broke through the treeline and not too far off, a house surrounded by a hedge. Gandalf urged us to get inside, and my nerves calmed a bit. Even if Someone would kill us all, we had at least avoided the Orc pack.

I saw Hannar break from the front of the group when he was through the gate. With a look of determination on his face, he took out his axe and took a stance, his feet apart and his shoulders squared. Was he going to take on a charging bear? It was madness! He’d be cut to ribbons before he got a solid hit in. Then it hit me. He wasn’t planning on surviving. He wanted to buy time. I couldn’t let him do this!

I laid my hand on his shoulder. He looked over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “Move.” I said, hoping I had enough authority in my voice to make him. He didn’t. He shook off my hand and faced the charging bear again. It had broken through the treeline and would be upon us in mere moments.

I took a step back. If Hannar wouldn’t save himself, I would. I had experience with fighting bears. What did it matter that this one was bigger? I expected the bear to make itself big, standing on two paws and taking a swipe at Hannar. If I could get him out of the way...

What I didn’t expect was that the beast didn’t seem to notice Hannar. Most animals could, for one reason or another, see Guardians. This bear clearly couldn’t, just charging into Hannar, sending him flying.

I threw myself bodily at it, hitting it in the side. It noticed, but didn’t care. It barely slowed down. The Company had gotten inside the house, shutting the door and catching the bear’s snout between it. They forced it out, leaving it swiping at the door. It roared and paced, but it seemed to realise that it wouldn’t get inside. With a final roar, it plodded off, once more not noticing Hannar or me.

When it was gone, I hurried over to Hannar. He was lying very still, and for a moment I worried. It passed when I held my fingers under his nose and felt his breath. He was still alive, just passed out. Should I try to wake him?

It was not my decision to make, apparently, because he woke up. He coughed and clutched his chest, his face distorted with pain. He opened his eyes just a crack, and smiled when he saw my worried expression. “Should’ve moved.” He said.

“Damn right you should’ve.” I said, relieved, sitting down next to him. He was in pain, but he could still speak. That was a good sign, wasn’t it? “Now, how do I get you back on your feet? How can I help?”

I helped him take off his pack, it hurt too much to do it himself. I got him the things he asked for from out of it, made him comfortable. “Rosa, you’re going to have to heal me.” He said, and I couldn’t help but laugh. We had established long ago that I couldn’t even heal a simple cut. Now, I couldn’t even see what I was supposed to be healing.

I stopped when I saw his face, completely serious. It made sense, really. Healing hurt. It didn’t help if you were unable to weave your spell without groaning. Anything that wasn’t part of the actual spell that came out of your mouth could drastically change the outcome. Healing himself would be more dangerous than letting me have a go at it.

“Hannar, I…” I didn’t know how to explain to him that I couldn’t. I had the sneaking suspicion that I would only make it worse. A pointed look from Hannar told me that I didn’t have a choice. 

“Are you sure that you can’t travel like this?” I half-heartedly tried. His frown told me enough. “Fine. But you’re going to have to explain it to me again.” I had forgotten almost everything he had told me back then, as I had no use for it.

Patiently, Hannar explained it all again in short sentences, often cut even shorter with coughs. My eyes went wide when there was blood on his hand, but he paid no attention to it and kent on explaining. By the time he was done, twilight had set in.

I was as prepared as I would ever be. I looked him in the eyes. “Hannar, are you sure I…” I didn’t even get to finish that sentence. He wasn’t sure I could. I could see it in his eyes. But right now, I was his best shot.

I set to it. I laid my hands on his chest and began singing. Not just words of healing, but of growth and control - this was the most important. If the healing wasn’t carefully controlled, it would’ve been better not to heal at all.

I heard Hannar grunting and saw him writhing, but when he tried to turn over or away, I firmly pressed him down again, often resulting in a whine. I wanted to apologise every single time it happened, I wanted to stop causing him pain, but I needed to continue. Hannar had warned me for it. It always was the hardest of any process of healing, even when he hadn’t been a Guardian, he had told me. Sometimes he needed to hurt his patients in order to heal them.

Something popped inside Hannars chest. A few more pops followed, the sound almost sickingly wet. But I couldn’t stop now. It was a good sign - a sign it was _working_. I had to finish what I started. Hannars grunts stopped as he began coughing. I took this as a sign that I was done, and stopped. He kept coughing, and I helped him sit up. An alarming volume of blood came up and out of his mouth, and he gasped deeply a few times before breathing normally.

At the same time, a wave of tiredness hit me, and black spots swam before my eyes before they took over my vision.


	12. We Need To Talk

I woke up and immediately wished I hadn’t. It felt like a very enthusiastic lumberjack was at work in my head, trying to get through my skull. Opening my eyes was no good either, as the light only made the pounding worse.

I growled as I buried my eyes in the nook of my elbow, trying to hide from the light. It helped a bit. As I did, my joints popped and my muscles ached. I made a note to never try to heal anyone ever again. Even if this feeling would fade eventually, it wasn’t worth it.

“How are you feeling this fine morning, madam Hobbit?” Hannar said, just a bit too chipper to my liking.

“Like absolute shit.” I answered. I knew he was teasing me, but I wouldn’t humor him right I now.

“Tsk. Such language from a lady, my, my.” He playfully chided. I could almost _hear_ him wagging his finger.

“‘m not a lady, never was.” I murmured. “How long was I out?”

“The entire night. You’ve got a knack for waking up with the sun, don’t you?” Hannar said, before I heard him inhale sharply and begin coughing. My heart sank in my chest. I had failed. I might’ve healed his ribs, but if he was still coughing up blood, he was in no fit state to travel.

I waited until Hannar’s coughing fit was over, before asking “How are you feeling?”. I expected an overly positive reply. Hannar never sounded _this_ chipper. I suspected him of making me feel better. I’d rather have him tell the truth.

“Not too bad.” He answered. “I’ve felt better, but I’m not coughing up blood anymore.”

I lifted my arm and cracked open an eye. I looked at Hannar’s hands and saw that there wasn’t any blood on them. His right hand had a bit of a wet sheen on it, and he wiped it on his pants. Was he telling the truth?

“I’ll make a healer out of you yet.” He chuckled. “I’d say that we’re even.” I raised an eyebrow, even if my arm obscured it. How could we be even? I still owed him, in my mind. At least for the rescue in the mountains. He had healed my leg yesterday, and I had healed his ribs today. I’d say _that_ was a fair exchange. But I didn’t say anything. I’d find a way to make things even, even if Hannar didn’t agree.

“I’ll live to see the Mountain yet.” He murmured, more to himself than anything. I certainly hoped so. The last few days had gone by so quick, and we had covered such a distance in them. I was torn; one part of me wanted the adventure to be over, to be done with it all. To go back to my rather uneventful life before I got used to _this._ The other part wanted it to last forever. If it was over, I had to leave Hannar behind at the Mountain. I would be alone once again.

My headache stubbornly persisted, but it didn’t get worse when I lifted my arm and opened my other eye. I didn’t have anything better to do, so I got out my pipe and continued carving. I was shaping out the body of the dragon, leaving a chunk of wood to shape into wings. The bowl would be the head.

As I worked, I noticed Hannar gawking. At first, I didn’t really care. I figured that he would grow bored eventually. He didn’t. By the time the sun had fully risen, I was getting annoyed at him. Had he never seen anyone carve a pipe? The rough shaping of the body and wings was done, and I moved on to the bowl. It fit perfectly in my palm, and if I held the stem between my fingers, I would be able to work in a way that would certainly stop Hannar’s gawking. Hannar got the hint and looked away. A small smile of satisfaction crept over my face.

It melted away when I realised why Hannar might’ve been staring. _I was carving a dragon._ The same beast we were on our way to steal from. The same beast that had driven Hannar, the Dwarrow of the Company, and so many others from their home, and killed many more. _And I was adorning a pipe with such a beast._ I had unthinkingly begun to do so back in Rivendell, and I hadn’t been able to carve since. Hannar hadn’t seen it yet. I could understand if he felt mocked by it.

I wanted to apologise, even though I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong. Not on purpose, anyway. I just didn’t know how. How could one even begin to apologise for such a gross insensitivity?

“Who’s it for?” Hannar asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. I hadn’t thought of it much. I had begun carving it for myself, but now I was putting on more ornamentation than I cared for. Hannar knew this. It seemed tacky to give it to him. He probably wouldn’t like it, not with a dragon on it.

“I… didn’t really think of it.” I answered honestly. “I just needed something to keep my hands busy. It’s yours if you want it.” I held my breath and mentally slapped myself. _Stupid, stupid, stupid, why did I say that?_ There was no taking back my words now. They had just rolled off my tongue without passing through my mind first.

“Then I’ll gladly take it.” He said. I paused my carving and looked up at him. “What? You thought I’d let you get away with it? You make marvelous pipes.” He continued, oblivious to what I had been thinking. “And when this is over, I won’t be able to get any more, won’t I?” He said it so cheerfully.

“No,” I said, trying to ignore the lump in my throat, “You won’t. I’d better finish this one before we get there. I don’t think I’ll get much time to carve once we’re there..” I tried to smile, but the best I managed was lifting a corner of my mouth.

“Maybe you can convince your little buddy to stay for a while. Crossing the Misties isn’t as easy in winter.” Hannar said. He seemed so sure of our success. I wondered what had changed. At the start of this journey he hadn’t even believed we would reach the Lonely Mountain. Now, he was making plans as if it was certain we would reclaim the Mountain. I didn’t think it was a bad thing. A little optimism could get you a lot farther than you’d originally thought.

“Master Baggins isn’t little, and I wouldn’t exactly call him my buddy.” I answered, my smile much less forced. “He’s actually quite tall.”

“Then what are you? A giant? You have a good inch on him, I’d wager.” He laughed. “But the offer still stands. I don’t think the Company would send him away, not now he’s practically one of their own.”

Before I could ask what he meant by that, I heard voices coming from behind the cabin, along with a rhythmic thumping that I had, at first, thought to be inside my head. It stopped soon after the voices started, though, so that wasn’t the case.

I stood up and went to see who - or what - our host was, leaving  a very confused Hannar behind. I saw Gandalf and Bilbo, introducing themselves to an absolute behemoth of a Man. The top of my head wouldn’t even come to his hips. As the Wizard tried to explain why they were there, Dwarrow came pouring out of the cottage in pairs, each one introducing themselves and offering their service.

The Man became more and more hostile as more Dwarrow came out, while the Wizard became more and more flustered. And while it seemed like the Man was about ready to attack, he simply hefted his axe once more, secured it into the chopping block he had been using, and invited the Dwarrow inside.

An annoyed tap on my shoulder told me that Hannar had finally followed. I doubted he had heard any of it. I shortly recapped the exchange for him and went through the door. It was still open, and the Man did not seem to be going to close it soon. The inside of the cabin was one large hall, which also served as a stable if the cows were anything to go by. It was large and light, but still I felt the walls pressing down on me.

Breakfast was served by all manner of animals. It was a sight to behold: at the Man’s command, a flock of white sheep, led by a black ram, came in with all sorts of platters on their broad backs. The platters held all sorts of things, from bread to cheese to a bowl of honey. Dogs came in after, who had learned to walk on their hind legs and grab things with their front legs. They set the table remarkably well, considering they had no thumbs. Just when I began to wonder if the tankards on the table were already filled, a pony came in, carrying a pitcher easily the size of its head in its mouth. The Man took it and filled the tankards with milk.

My stomach growled at the sight of it all. No matter how much I wanted to nick a piece of bread and dip it in the honey, I knew that that was a very bad idea. I would eat something later. Maybe I could get my hands on the leftovers.

The meal was filled with small talk, interspersed with the Company telling the Man - Beorn - how they had gotten to his house in the first place. Where they were going was conveniently left behind. Until the Wizard involved himself and told Beorn that they would have to go through the Greenwood - now known as Mirkwood, for reasons I didn’t want to know but would find out soon nevertheless - to reach the Lonely Mountain before Durin’s Day.

The Man gave many warnings; fell things crept along the trees there, the Wood Elves weren’t like their kin - less wise and more dangerous -, and the water inside the forest was either hard to find or cursed. “But it matters not.” he concluded, “These lands are crawling with Orcs. Their numbers are growing, and you are on foot. You will never reach the forest alive.”

It wasn’t just me that perceived the last sentence as a thinly veiled threat. I saw some Dwarrow reach for their weapon, though none drew them.

Beorn stood up from his large chair, and loomed over the still-eating Dwarrow. “I do not like Dwarves. They’re greedy, and blind.” He said, picking something small up. “Blind to the lives of those they deem lesser than their own.” He looked at whatever he had picked up with a gentle smile and stroked it. He returned his gaze to the King. “But Orcs I hate more. What do you need?”

By the time everything was packed and prepared, it was too late to head out anymore. While the sun was still up, we would have to ride deep into the night to make any real progress. The king, having seen what his haste had caused in the Misties, agreed to stay another night, and leave at first light.

While the Dwarrow stayed inside, master Bilbo took the opportunity to take a walk in Beorn’s garden. It was marvellous and, like the man who worked it, giant. There were vast patches of vegetables and fruits, and even larger fields of flowers for his bees. Naturally, I followed master Baggins. The Man wouldn’t mind just a few pieces of fruit missing, or a handful of peas.

I didn’t expect Hannar’s heavy footfalls to follow me. He caught up soon enough, walking next to me. Master Baggins hadn’t had any idea that I had been following behind him, but Hannar had made enough noise to alert him of his presence. Especially when he began coughing again. I couldn’t help but glance at his hand, and again, there was no blood. Hannar had no idea that master Bilbo could hear us, and very unsubtly asked “So this show pony can Cross at will, right?”, giving me a playful nudge and a wink. I was beginning to suspect that not only his ribs had gotten a beating when he was shoved - well, launched is a better word - aside by the bear.

My face became hot as I hid it behind my hands. _He had not just said that._ I couldn’t help but look between my fingers. Master Baggins turned around with a raised eyebrow. _Oh Lady help me, he had._ “Yes, he can.” He remarked, almost looking at Hannar.

Which gave Hannar a very uncomfortable feeling, if his silence was anything to go by. “He can hear us?” He asked me beneath his breath. Master Baggins, however, had as good ears as I had and could hear him.

“Yes, I can. You must be Hannar. I take miss Fernsby is with you?” He said, as if he was just exchanging pleasantries, but there was an edge to his words. The familiar yet distant edge of I-don’t-like-you-but-we’re-related-so-I-have-to-pretend-I-do. Not as bad as outright sarcasm, but not a good starting point for any relationship. “I don’t think she mentioned your last name.”

“Ginnarson.” Hannar answered, still a bit shocked. He had to be. He had never told me his last name. Not that I ever pressed for it, but still. Secretly, it hurt just a bit that he’d tell master Baggins but not me.

“I’m sorry we interrupted your walk master Baggins, we’ll be on our way…” I said, taking Hannar by his arm and dragging him away.

When we were a good distance away, I turned to Hannar. “What is wrong with you today?” I asked, trying to keep my annoyance out of my voice. “You’re not acting like yourself.”

Hannar huffed and looked away, crossing his arms. I was determined to get an answer, though. If he wasn’t going to say anything, two could play that game. I kept a questioning stare on him. We stood there a while, but I saw Hannar getting uncomfortable.

“... I don’t like him.” Hannar finally admitted.

“Who? Master Baggins?” I asked.

“Yes. I don’t… I think you’re spending too much time with him.” He said, before having a coughing fit. Was Hannar jealous? I thought back to the last few days. I _had_ spend some time with master Bilbo, but not as much as I had with...

I had been spending more time with master Baggins than with Hannar, I realised, today being an exception. “Why do you think so?” I asked when he had stopped coughing. I wouldn’t judge until I knew why he had problems with it.

“He’s not like us.” Hannar said. “He’ll never understand what we go through. And besides, he’ll be dead in a few years. What are you going to do then?” Was he trying to protect me? It didn’t make much sense. For all I knew, I could be dead tomorrow, and so could Hannar, though I doubted it.

“You’re worried about me, isn’t it?” I asked. It clicked into place. The off-hand comment about the pipe this morning. He was worried that I would be lonely once again. And the worst thing was - he was right. I would be lonely. Making friends with master Baggins would only delay it. I didn’t know if I’d like the new Guardian of the Blue Mountains when I returned to the Shire. It could very well be that they never accompanied merchants. A nod from Hannar confirmed my suspicion. “Hannar, how long have we known each other?” I asked.

Hannar thought for a moment. “I’d say one hundred and forty years, something like that?” It could very well be, I had no clue. Years tended to blur together for me.

“And wouldn’t you say I can care for myself?”

“That’s not the point, Rosa.” He said, looking at me for the first time in the conversation. “You’re tough. I know that. But you’re also very…” He paused, thinking of the right words. “ruled by your emotions. The burglar will die. I don’t want to think about what you’ll do when you lose him too.” He stifled a few coughs.

He had a good point. I didn’t know what I would do when I lost somebody else. I knew I would lose Hannar. It was a fact. But I knew roughly when, and hopefully, how. If I could deliver him to his mountain, to his home, it would be good enough for me. I could say my goodbyes. But master Baggins? He could just fall dead without warning. And that - the sudden loss without a chance to say goodbye - might just break me.

“I appreciate your concern,” I said, carefully weighing my words. “But I can’t very well ignore master Baggins, can I? And who says I’ll live to see him die?” I paused. “But you’re right. I don’t know what I’d do. Probably something very stupid. But that’s a concern for later, don’t you think?”

I could see in Hannars eyes that he wasn’t satisfied with my answer. “Perhaps.” He said coolly. “But think about it. Maybe it’s better not to get too attached to him.”

“I will.” I promised. And I did, the very same night. It kept me up for longer than I cared to admit, and still I hadn’t reached a conclusion. I repeated my own words to myself. _It’s_ _a concern for later._ I could think about it all I wanted on the way back.


	13. Into The Woods

We left the safety of the cabin and its grounds when the sun came up, and didn’t stop until it had lowered beneath the horizon. Keeping up with the Company, now they had ponies again. They rode silently and swiftly, galloping where it wouldn’t make much noise, and walking next to the ponies in more difficult terrain. We couldn’t risk to lose one. The ponies would be send back to their master when we reached the woods, and Beorn had made it very clear that they better not come to harm.

The day and the two following days, were so demanding that, while I kept up with the Company, I couldn’t think. When we finally stopped for the night, I found that I didn’t remember anything about the day. The first night, I had tried to keep watch and fell asleep. The second night Hannar didn’t wake me for my shift. The third night wasn’t much better.

The fourth day we reached Mirkwood. I all but collapsed when the Company stopped. I vaguely remember an argument over something or other, but I was too tired to care. The ponies were unloaded and set free to return to their master.

I registered that the Wizard left, but it took some time before I processed it. And when I had, I didn’t have the energy to feel angry towards him, apathy taking over.

It turned out that I  _ did _ have the energy to feel fear. The Company had packed everything into the new packs on their backs, and headed into the forest. I picked myself up and mindlessly followed. I was three steps in and my mind began screaming  _ Can’t breathe. Very Bad Idea. Something is wrong here get out get out get out - _ A weight settled on my chest and my throat seemed to squeeze shut. I took off my cloak to try and cool down a bit, but it did nothing to dispel the heat (or was I just imagining being hot?). My cloak fit inside my pack. I didn’t have to fold it in a special way or anything, I just put it in and it fit. Great. It meant my rations were running dangerously low.

I quickly followed the Company, and as the forest grew darker my fear grew stronger. My bones felt like they were filled with lead, but I was ready to bolt at any sign of danger. I hated it. We would be in here for who-knows-how-long. If I ran away from the Company, I might just never find them again. I didn’t want to become known as that one idiot that lost her charge and died from starvation in some woods half a world away from her people.

The forest became darker and darker, until I thought it a miracle anything would grow. It was barely enough to see the person walking in front of me. I couldn’t tell who it was, though. He was a Dwarf, and had dark hair, but that was as good as it got.

When it got even darker, we assumed it was nighttime. A watch-fire was lit, but it did nothing but draw moths, as big as my hands and as dark as the forest they resided in. I took first watch. I was tired, and ‘watch’ wasn’t an accurate description of what I did. I closed my eyes and listened. Others might have fallen asleep, but my fear kept me awake. I had no way to tell how long I had kept watch, or when I had to wake Hannar. Not that it mattered. I doubted that I would fall asleep anyway.

When the forest became lighter again, I assumed that the night was over. Nori - who had had the last watch - thought so too and woke the Company. When I woke Hannar, I got an earful about why I hadn’t woken him, but I found myself too tired to care. Hannar soon noticed that he might as well be talking to a tree, he would get as much reaction.

Hannar took to the front of the Company, and I trudged along the rear. Hannar’s coughs every now and then were actually comforting me. Even if I couldn’t see him, I could hear him. It was horribly selfish of me, but I was glad that I hadn’t healed his lungs properly (or had even damaged them in my attempt).

We followed the path until the forest became too dark to see again. We didn’t bother with a watch-fire this time. It drew more attention than that it helped us see threats coming.

“I’ll take watch. You try and rest a bit.” Hannar said firmly. I wanted to tell him that I wouldn’t be able to sleep, but I knew that tone. He wouldn’t take any objection. I laid down and tried to sleep. After what felt like ages but probably were hours, I fell asleep, only to be haunted by my fear in my dreams.

* * *

 

Something was chasing me in the Old Forest. It was big, but somehow faster than me. It was slowly gaining on me, it’s eyes glinting murderously in the last light of the day.

I broke from the treeline and ran into vast fields of produce. I didn’t have the time to think of what it was. It still chased me. It was my own fault, I knew this, but what I had done escaped me.

In the middle of a field filled with low crops I saw a well. It was a simple one - there was no roofing above it, and a bucket with a long rope tied on lay beside it.

It wouldn’t follow me inside the well, I thought. I ran for it, giving a last bout of speed that I didn’t know I still had left. I jumped in, grabbing hold of the wall and climbing down. It had been a dry spell for a while now, and at the bottom of the well was just enough water to cover my feet.

I made myself small and hoped the thing wouldn’t follow. If it did, I was doomed. I looked up and saw nothing. I decided to keep waiting down here until it was completely dark. It should be gone by then.

A semicircle was laid on top of the well, and then another. Something heavy was put on top, and I was stuck down here.  _ Ah well, _ I thought,  _ I’ll just wait until morning. _ Whoever had covered the well would uncover it tomorrow, I presumed. The cover was just there to make sure animals wouldn’t accidentally jump in and drown, soiling the water.

The cover let through some lines of light where the boards didn’t exactly line up. It allowed me to see the sky become dark.

I was trying to think of things to do in such a limited space. I had nothing with me except my knives and my sling. Maybe I could practice some knots? Sleeping wasn’t an option, not like this. I would surely get hypothermia.

I filled the time tying and untying knots, until I realised the water was slowly rising. It had risen from just covering my feet to halfway my shins. I thought back. How had the clouds looked?

Most of the clouds were just fluffy sheep-clouds, as I had dubbed them. They never brought bad weather. Others, though… There had been dark clouds, but they had been far away. Unless the wind had picked up, they wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow.

I was so, so wrong. The water had risen, now coming to my waist. I could only hope it was my imagination that it seemed to go faster. From above, small droplets fell. At first they were few and far inbetween, but soon they came down in long ribbons of water.

The water covered my shoulders. I knew I could swim, but for how long would I be able to? I couldn’t even see the cover of the well anymore, it was too dark. I tried to hold on to the wall of the well, but it was slippery from the water. If I wanted to survive this, I could only hope I could last until the cover was lifted. There would be no chance for rest.

I paddled with my feet, trying to keep my head above the water. I could see the cover again, and the sky above it. It was becoming lighter, even if it still was grey. I could only hope that someone would open the well soon. I tried not to think about the unlikeliness of that.

* * *

 

Someone shook me, and I started awake, drawing a deep breath as if I had just escaped drowning. I looked around to see who woke me, but to no avail. I wouldn’t have been able to see my hand if I held it in front of my nose.

“Miss Fernsby?” Master Bilbo whispered. “Are you alright?” So it had been him who woke me, and not Hannar. I was grateful for that. Hannar worried too much already. If he saw me now, drenched in sweat… I didn’t want to think about it.

The dream hadn’t been as much a dream as it had been a memory - and an old one at that. Ever since that night, I found myself having trouble with closed off spaces. Especially when they were dark. I had discovered this the hard way when I heard of trouble in Michel Delving. Something about a monster in the Lockholes. I went to have a look and see what I could do, and found that, when I was two steps in, I couldn’t bring myself to move. Forward or backward. I don’t remember how long I took to calm myself down, but it was longer than I care to admit. And I had had to stop too many times to do it again. The ‘monster’ turned out to be a giant spider. It was big enough to seriously harm someone, but I took care of it.

“Yes, I am now. I didn’t wake you, did I?” I replied. I had lain down near master Baggins. I tried to keep close, so I tried to find a spot either next to him or very close. It hadn’t been the first time I had had a nightmare since we left - I had had especially bad ones after the cave - but this was the first time that I realised that I might have woken him accidentally because of one.

“You didn’t. I’ve had trouble sleeping the last few nights.” He answered.

“Me too. It’s this forest, isn’t it? There’s something wrong with it.” I said. “I hope we get out soon. I don’t know if I can take this for much longer.” I didn’t know how big this forest was, and while I suspected it would take us at least a week to cross it, I could only hope we would cross it in less.

Master Bilbo stayed silent, and a question popped up in my mind. I hadn’t been close enough to actually hit him with my trashing. So how had I grabbed his attention?

Apparently I had been thinking out loud. “You were talking in your sleep. It was complete gibberish, though. Couldn’t understand a word.” He paused. “Well, I don’t think I’ll be getting any sleep tonight. Might as well take over the watch.” He almost took the words out of my mouth.

I very carefully walked over to Hannar, trying not to trip on the sleeping Dwarrow. “Now you get some sleep.” I said, inadvertently startling him.

“Rosa, you kept watch all night yesterday. You need to rest, or it’s going to cost you.”

“Believe me, I’m not getting any more sleep tonight. So you better get some rest, then at least one of us gets it.” I said.

“Bad dream?” He asked. I sighed, pointlessly crossing my arms. I had hoped Hannar hadn’t heard it. He took my silence as a yes. “Ever since the Goblins you seem to be having those almost every night. What happened down there that has you so frightened that you still have nightmares?”

“I’ve already told you what happened. But that isn’t what is causing them.” I hesitated. Should I tell Hannar that I was scared of closed off spaces? It seemed so silly. I wasn’t afraid of much anymore, not really. I would admit a warg is scary, but I wasn’t afraid of them, not truely. Not since I had seen that they, too, could be killed. Orcs had lost their grisliness long ago, when they fell by the hundreds under a rain of arrows I helped create. Goblins were unnerving, but just that. But put me in a closed space, and I was downright terrified, especially when that space was small. Make it dark and it had the tendency to give me nightmares for days to come.

“Then what does?” Hannar asked a bit impatiently.

“It’s silly, really.” I said, a bit taken aback. “I’m just, a bit scared, you know…” I said, trying to stall, “of closed off spaces.” my voice softening to a whisper.

“I didn’t get that last part. What are you afraid of?”

“Closed off spaces.” I said, at last.

“Is that what’s eating you? Miner’s fear?” He asked, a mix of concern and surprise in his voice. I didn’t know how to react to that. I hadn’t even known there was a name for it. “I didn’t know Hobbits could get it. It’s mostly just miners who get it. Especially after a cave-in.” He sounded thoughtful. “Well, it’ll pass eventually.” I doubted it. I had had this fear for a long time now.

“In any case,” I said, trying to sound chipper, “I won’t get any more sleep tonight. Try to catch a few winks, alright? I’ll keep watch.”

Hannar sighed. “Fine. But mark my words, it’s going to cost you.”

“Consider it marked.” I said, sitting down and listening to the noises of the night.


End file.
